


Love-One, Love-All

by LaughingArcher42



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tennis, Coran and Haggar are assistant coaches, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First time writing fanfic please be gentle, Fluff and Angst, Galra High, Gay Keith, I got carried away with the tags, I should add, I threw in Arus High, Just watch out and be careful while reading, M/M, On Hiatus, Pan Allura, Shiro and Zarkon are coaches, Slow Burn, THEY'RE DORKS, Voltron High, a kind of panic attack?, bi lance, everyone else is a player, i gave her a girlfriend, i honestly just love tennis, mild mentions of depression, moderate levels of angst, oh I forgot, plenty of tennis, they're rival schools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingArcher42/pseuds/LaughingArcher42
Summary: Voltron High's fall tennis season is midway, and Shiro is trying to push his team to get to state. He and Coran decide to pair up Keith and Lance, much to Lance's dismay. But Lance won't let Keith show him up in doubles, and Keith is determined to make Shiro proud. Tennis shenanigans ensue.





	1. New Teams

**Author's Note:**

> Haha okay so this au has been in the works for a couple months and can I just say that I'm so excited to be finally posting this chapter.
> 
> I hope whoever stumbles upon this silly tennis au will enjoy! Let the shenanigans commence :^)

Lance was livid.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the flurry of rage that had started boiling inside his gut. He stared, no, _glared_ at the obtrusive name that was printed above his. _Keith Kogane._ The printed name seemed to mock him, dangling his aspirations in front of him like a lifeline. Lance knew he shouldn’t be this worked up, but he couldn’t help it, not when Mullet McFuck had snaked his way to the top _again_. He let out a long winded sigh and turned to the boy next to him.

“Hunk, why does Shiro do this to me?” Lance practically whined as he slumped against his large friend, placing the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically while he slid to the floor. As usual, Hunk was blissfully unaffected by Lance’s theatrics as he studied the try-out results for himself. A small, proud smile graced the Hunk’s face as he muttered, “Number four ain’t so bad.” The smile disappeared when he looked down at a rather dismal Lance, raising an eyebrow once he noticed his friend’s clearly distressed state.

“Lance, what are you complaining about?” Hunk chided Lance as he pulled him up from the floor. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world because one person is better than you on this tennis team.” Lance scoffed at this, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense before sucking in a deep breath. Hunk prepared himself for the rant he knew was coming.

“You don’t get it, Hunk. It’s not just any person that’s better, it’s _Keith._ ” Lance hissed the name out, face contorting in anger. “He does this every year, Hunk. Every year!” Lance’s arms flew up in a show of exasperation while he continued. “I try so damn hard, but he has to one-up me and pull ahead like the show off he is!” Lance was slowly simmering down and his irate expression had finally dissolved into a dissatisfied pout. “I wish him and his stupid mullet would chill so I could actually beat him for once.” Crossing his arms with childish finality, Lance turned back to the roster and sulked quietly.

Hunk pat his friend’s back comfortingly, having heard tirades of similar caliber far too many times before to let it faze him now. His gaze was drawn away however, when he spotted a familiar bob of light brown hair bouncing down the hall towards them. “Pidge!” Hunk called out, waving their small friend down excitedly. “Coach posted try-out results!” At that, Pidge gained an extra spring in her step as she hurried over to the pair. When she reached the wall covered in various papers, she zeroed in on the same sheet Hunk and Lance had been studying moments earlier. Bright eyes widened behind large glasses as Pidge spotted her name and turned to shoot the two boys a delighted grin.

“Two peas in a pod, aren’t we Hunk?” Pidge bumped her shoulder playfully into Hunk’s arm (her head barely rose above the taller boy’s shoulders). “Maybe Shiro will put us in mixed doubles since we have the same rank.” She wiggled her eyebrows up at Hunk, but they both knew what a disaster that had been last time. After a chuckle or two Pidge turned her gaze to Lance, who was still staring sullenly at the results.

“What’s his problem?” Pidge inquired, tilting her head towards Lance subtly as she fixed Hunk with a questioning look. Hunk shrugged but gave Pidge a knowing look in response. “You know how he gets every year. Keith beat him again and so he’s pouting about it.” Both friends turned to look at their fellow athlete, who was now muttering something under his breath about setting a mullet on fire. Fearing that Lance might actually carry out one of his ridiculous threats if his attention wasn’t drawn elsewhere, Pidge turned back to the roster and latched onto one name, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.

“Heyyy Lance,” Pidge drawled out as she sidled up to him. “Did you know Hunk’s _girlfriend_ was so good at tennis?” Lance perked up at that, glancing over to Pidge, who was pointing to the name “Shay Balmera” printed at the number two spot on the roster. The grin she wore was absolutely shit eating, and Lance finally caught on to what she wanted. Now wearing an equally mischievous grin, Lance whirled on Hunk, pushing an elbow into his friend’s side.

“No Pidge, I didn’t know Hunk’s _girlfriend_ was such a tennis star! Why didn’t you tell us Hunk??” He was smirking widely at Hunk, who had suddenly turned into a blushing, stuttering mess. Waving his hands wildly in front of him in denial, Hunk attempted to stutter out, “C-come on guys, Shay’s not my g-girlfriend!” But Lance and Pidge were too busy cackling at the crimson shade that had overtaken Hunk’s face to listen to his vehement denial.

Wiping away small tears of mirth, Lance slung an arm around Hunk, letting out a few more giggles at his friend’s expense before addressing him. “It’s okay Hunk, we all know you want her to be.” At this Hunk blanched, trying to quickly mutter out excuses, but Pidge waved them away and walked up to Hunk, poking his arm lightly. “Don’t worry, we won’t make fun of you too much.” She flashed a wink his way then continued on, this time a little more serious in her tone. “But seriously, when are you going to ask her out? It’s obvious you guys like each other.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Hunk focused on the floor and a light brush of color rose back into his cheeks. “I-I don’t know guys. Maybe for Homecoming?” Lance let a smile grace his face at those words, and he clapped Hunk on the back happily. “We’ll totally help you bud! We’ve got you covered for all your girlfriend related needs. A little help from ‘Lance the Love Doctor’ and Shay will be swooning in seconds my friend.” Hunk let out a nervous chuckle and looked over at his friend questioningly.

“Lance the Love Doctor? Is this the same guy that hasn’t had a date since freshman year when that girl said yes because she felt bad for you?” It was Lance’s turn to stutter and fumble with various excuses as he tried to defend himself. Hunk only shook his head and shared a knowing look with Pidge, who was trying to hide her giggling behind her hand. Lance finally seemed to gather himself enough to send glares at both Pidge and Hunk, before exclaiming rather loudly, “Just you two watch! I’ll get a date this year _and_ I’ll do it without help from either one of you!”

Pidge scoffed and raised an eyebrow at Lance, before muttering out, “Why don’t you date Keith, since you talk about him so much.” Lance’s eye’s widened with shock and indignation at the comment, his mouth flopping open and closed as he struggled to vocalize his inner turmoil, until he finally choked out, “W-what?!” The undignified squeak in his voice was not lost on Pidge or Hunk, who both smirked at their friend’s obviously flustered state. “There’s no way I’d be into Keith! I hate him! We’re rivals! H-he has a mullet!” His friends broke into full on laughter at his pathetic arguments, and Lance dissolved into a furious crimson rage as he tried desperately to refute their claims.

Eventually the three calmed down, Lance only simmering slightly as he grumbled out, “Let’s get to class you guys.” They turned away from the board, and Hunk slung two large arms around his friends as they walked down the hall, a bright smile highlighting his expression. “It’s gonna be a good season you guys.” Hunk sighed out happily. Lance and Pidge both glanced up at their joyful friend, and smiles found their way onto both the teen’s faces as they nodded in agreement.

~~~

It seemed that “good” was an understatement.

The Voltron High Tennis team was undefeated midway through their fall season, and Coach Shiro had his eyes set on winning State. Losing the year before in the Area tournament had hardly deterred the team, especially not Shiro. If anything, they were all more determined than ever to make it to the top. And that’s why their coach decided that a change in lineup was necessary. Coran and Shiro had gathered all the athletes together on the courts in order to let them know the changes, and several of the teens were shuffling around nervously, hoping they didn’t get paired with someone they didn’t like.

Lance was no exception. He toed the ground anxiously, desperately willing Shiro to not call his name. He and Hunk had fallen into a comfortable partnership in the beginning of that season, and had been working extremely well together at the top boy’s doubles spot. But the two friends seemed to be too friendly on the court; more often than not, they were distracted by one another, cracking jokes and fooling around rather than paying attention to their matches. Lance could only vainly hope that the Dream Team wouldn’t be broken up.

Looking around at his teammates quietly, Lance observed the few other people who were fidgeting much like he was; Pidge twiddled her thumbs and stared at the ground, her brother Matt stood next to her rocking back and forth on his heels, and naturally Hunk was as nervous as Lance, nibbling his lip while his hands clasped behind him in worry. But most of the other athletes were collected and calm, waiting for Shiro to speak. Allura Altea, captain of the team, stood silent and attentive, ever the picture of tranquility. And of course, Keith leaned on a bit of fence, seeming supremely unconcerned with what was happening around him. Once the whole team was gathered Shiro finally spoke up.

“Alright everybody, now that I’ve got your attention, it’s time to address a few things. First of all, some congratulations are in order. A win is a win, and _most,_ ” Shiro threw a pointed glance at Lance, who faked incredulity, “performed the way we needed to pull out that victory. However, that brings us to what I wanted to talk about. Despite winning, there were a few problems with some of the doubles teams. Most notably Lance and Hunk” Shiro turned to the two boys, and Lance cringed a bit. He knew what was coming. Fixing them with a stern gaze, their coach continued. “You two weren’t focused at all. You couldn’t mange to play out two points without dissolving into uncoordinated messes. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed because you both showed promise that you could be a good team.” Both Lance and Hunk had the decency to looked ashamed, focusing on the floor as Shiro went on. “Despite that potential, I realize that we need a change in the lineup. And it’s not just these two.”

Shiro turned to Matt and Pidge then, fixing them with the same stern gaze as before. “You two can’t seem to agree on how to work together properly.” The siblings tried to protest but Shiro raised a hand to silence them. He then turned to an unfazed Keith. “And you don’t trust Rolo enough during matches.” Keith scoffed at this but didn’t grace Shiro with a response. Shiro scowled at him but left it alone, retuning his attention to the rest of the team. “Coran and I have decided on these changes, and because of the bye we have this week, you’ll all have a fair amount of time to adjust to new partners. Matt, you and Hunk will play together at the number two doubles spot.” Hunk let out a small sigh of relief, glancing over at Matt to give him a reassuring smile. The other teen looked just as relieved as Hunk. “Pidge, you and Rolo will play mixed doubles together. I expect you both to do your best to cooperate.” Pidge nodded meekly and Rolo just mumbled out a quiet, “Yeah, whatever.” Choosing to ignore this, Shiro then set his eyes on Lance, who all but withered under the gaze.

Now Lance wasn’t an idiot, so it didn’t take much for him to put two and two together to realize who he would be playing with. But he quietly wished he was wrong. “Lance, you’ll be playing with Keith.” So much for that. “I know you two don’t always get along, but I think if you guys can work past your differences, you’ll make a great team.” Keith was silent, but Lance was immediately indignant.

“Shiro, let me play with Pidge. We make a pretty good team and-” But Shiro wasn’t having any of it. “Lance. Don’t argue with me.” His tone was sharp and commanding. “You’re playing with Keith next week. And that’s final. I expect you to try your best to work with him, and I expect no less from you either Keith.” Keith just shrugged, which only served to piss off Lance further. Why wasn’t he more upset about this?

They were rivals after all. There was no way they could work together, could they?

With a final, curt nod, Shiro dismissed the team and the athletes slowly dispersed to separate courts to warm up. Lance mumbled and grumbled while he waddled over to Pidge and Hunk, who were both giving him strange looks. Hunk’s expression was a mixture of sympathy and sadness, but Pidge’s face was alight with amusement and what seemed to be mischief. Pidge looked like she was about to say something, but Lance threw her the most scathing glare he could manage and any teasing died quickly. Hunk silently patted Lance’s shoulder and they shared a look that seemed to say, “ _I miss you, but I’ll be okay._ ” At least, that’s what it meant to Hunk. For Lance it was more like, “ _Please save me from Mullet McFuck._ ”

The trio made their way to an empty court, where Matt promptly joined them to warm up. Their hitting was easy-going and perhaps a bit lazy, but they were all feeling the same as Lance right about now. Shiro tended to avoid switching up team dynamics too often, so each of them was feeling a little uneasy at the sudden change. Most of all Lance, who was visibly slouching, expression forlorn and body drawn in on himself, as if he were trying to escape from reality itself. He barely put any energy into the shots he hit, and after several minutes of this, Hunk and Pidge shared a concerned glance. Lance heaved a heavy sigh and trudged over to slouch onto the bench on court, and the two locked eyes. They seemed to share a silent conversation, before Pidge nodded and walked over to the pouting athlete. She sat down beside him and there was a beat of heavy silence before Lance whirled to Pidge and began to spew complaints.

“Pidge, it’s not fair! Shiro knows I hate Keith and he put us together anyway! And the fact that Keith didn’t even care? That pisses me off! I bet he thinks he’s better than me, with his perfect eyes and perfect form and _terrible_ hair! _Oh I’m Keith and I’m the greatest tennis player to live since Billie Jean King!_ ” Venom dripped off of Lance’s words as he attempted to imitate Keith, and he was practically spitting until he had to stop and suck in a huge breath of air. His mouth was already open and ready to plow forward with his rant until Pidge shushed him with a finger to his lips. There was a stern look in her eyes that told Lance to _shut the fuck up_ , so he did just that.

“Lance.” Pidge removed her finger from Lance’s face and crossed her arms against her chest. Expecting yet another scolding, Lance deflated and sat back against the bench and leaned his head back, brow furrowed in frustration. He spared a glance back at Pidge, but instead of a scornful expression Pidge’s face was alight with amusement and scheming. Lance couldn’t decide if that was better than the reproving look he was expecting. When Pidge caught his eye she began to speak again, her tone aloof and light.

“If you’re so convinced that Keith thinks he’s better than you, why don’t you prove him wrong?” Lance raised a questioning brow at her, not catching on to whatever she meant, but Pidge pushed on. “Doubles is the _perfect_ opportunity to show him who’s better! If you play with him, he’ll have to watch you _up close and personal._ ” Pidge wiggled her eyebrows up and down, a grin adorning her face. Lance flushed a little at this, his eyes widening in slight embarrassment, but also in understanding. He shook off his blush, and his lips began to curl up into a small smile. Pidge had fixed him with an expecting gaze, and Lance found himself nodding slowly in acknowledgment.

“You know what, you’re right Pidge!” Lance was sitting up now, his excitement growing by the second, the small smile that was forming now blooming into a full blown smirk. “I’ll show him who the better player is, and the better doubles partner!” Pidge beamed at Lance, then turned to Hunk who had a gentle smile on his face as he held up his hand in a thumbs up. Maybe Lance would get through this. He was never one to turn down a challenge, and he had to admit that Pidge had a point. If he could finally prove to Keith, and perhaps to himself, that he was better, then maybe one good thing would come from this partnership.

~~~

After allowing some time to warm up, Shiro called the three new teams over to a secluded court. If these teens were to play, and play well, in their next match, they would need to practice together as much as possible. Shiro’s main concern wasn’t focused on Hunk and Matt, or even Rolo and Pidge. No, he was worried for Lance and Keith the most. They were the two most talented athletes on his team, rivaled only by Allura and perhaps Shay. Shiro knew he was taking a calculated risk by pairing them together, but he dearly hoped that the two would be able to get along well enough to operate as a team.

Although, his hopes were certainly sinking already, as he observed the two boys racing to the court. Lance had challenged Keith as he passed him on their way, and Keith had immediately accepted the challenge, both athletes booking it in an attempt to reach their coach before the other.

Keith flashed a triumphant smirk as he just barely edged past Lance to touch the court first, and naturally Lance began protesting rather loudly that Keith had _obviously_ cheated. The boy simply scoffed and waved him off, turning away to saunter over to Shiro. Lance was fuming as he followed Keith, stomping in an obnoxious manner to communicate the he was not happy about being beaten and subsequently ignored.

While Lance attempted to sear holes into the back of Keith’s head with his glare (he was definitely _not_ observing the small ponytail that was _totally hideous_ on Keith), Shiro began to highlight the drills the teams would be practicing. They were all fairly simple and revolving around teamwork, focusing on specific aspects such as backing up a partner, or setting them up for winning shots. Lance was only half listening, still too focused on trying to commit homicide with his gaze alone, so when the group suddenly broke apart he was a tad bit confused. He followed the group but soon realized he was hopelessly lost. Leaning over to Hunk, he hoped to pry the information from his friend.

“Hey, Hunk. What are we doing?” Hunk raised an eyebrow at his friend, not so much in surprise but in exasperation. Hunk opened his mouth to explain but he stopped when someone else spoke over him.

“You’d know what we were doing if you paid any attention to Shiro.” Keith stood off to the side, glowering at Lance. “If we’re going to cooperate at all, you need to get your head out of your ass so we’re on the same page.” Lance sputtered at this, looking indignant and offended. He took a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith.

“W-well at least I have an ass!” He managed to stutter out, completely red in the face. Keith just rolled his eyes and Lance stood back and looked extremely proud of himself, while Hunk muttered, “Nice one Lance!” They shared a high-five and Hunk proceeded to explain the drill.

The first few drills went by without much incident, as they didn’t require much interaction between partners. But as soon as they started needing even an inkling of communication, things fell apart.

At first Lance and Keith were stubbornly silent, hitting balls as they needed to and generally not causing any problems. Occasionally one boy or the other would miss a ball, and it only served to drive up the tension between the partners. Lance was aching to show how he was better than Keith, and the other boy simply wanted to do what his coach was asking, and do it successfully.

The final straw was when a ball crossed midcourt and Keith made to intercept it in the back court, yelling out a quick, “Got it!” In a split second decision, Lance lunged over and poached the ball with a short volley. Across the net, Hunk easily returned the ball. Keith, caught unawares, struggled and ultimately failed to pivot back over to his side of the court before the ball bounced into the opening left in his stead.

Furious, Keith whirled around to face Lance, who was now leaning on the net with a smug smirk tugging at his lips. An overwhelming urge to wipe the expression off Lance’s face with a well-placed fist passed through Keith, but he shook the feeling off in favor of stalking up to Lance in a flurry of rage. Pointing an angry finger at Lance much like the boy had done to Keith earlier, he opened his mouth to tell the other athlete off.

“What the hell was that?” Keith raised a brow at Lance, wanting an answer and wanting it _now_. Lance raised an eyebrow of his own, seeming perplexed.

“That was a great poach, thank you very much. It’s not my fault you weren’t covering your side of the court.” Keith spluttered and let out a small noise of indignant fury.

“Don’t blame this on me! I called the ball, I had it just fine!” Keith stepped forward further and poked his finger into Lance’s chest. “You were the one who decided to step out of line and ignore me! The whole point of being doubles partners is being able to communicate effectively, something _you_ ,” Keith jabbed him again in the chest, “seem unable to get through your thick skull!” Lance’s face darkened and he shoved Keith back by the shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height to look down on the other boy.

“I _can_ get it through my skull, I just don’t _want_ to communicate with a partner who’s a douche!” Keith barked out a sarcastic laugh and let a derisive sneer settle on his face.

“So _I’m_ the douche? Who’s the one who just poached a ball that _I_ called?!” They were in each other’s faces now, both flushed from anger and exertion. Keith’s hands were balled up in fists by his side and they shook from the effort of not throwing himself at his teammate. Lance had his arms thrown to the side in indignation as he glared down at Keith. The two boys maintained eye contact, each silently fuming and trying to let the other know how right they were.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Shiro walked up to the teens, using his arms to gently push the two apart. Both huffed and turned away, petulantly crossing their arms and refusing to look back. Lance had settled into a childish pout, while Keith’s face had scrunched up into a dark scowl, his loose bangs settling over his eyes. Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I think that’s all we’ll do today for doubles practice.” Shiro then turned to the rest of the courts and yelled out to the whole team. “Go take a water break and be on this court in five minutes!” He turned his gaze back on Keith and Lance, who were still pouting respectively. Fixing them with a hard stare he sighed quietly. “I expect better from you two.” Then he walked off to talk with Coran.

Lance watched him go with a small tinge of guilt. It quickly faded away when he turned back and saw Keith still glaring. Letting out an indignant huff, Lance pushed past Keith to get off the court, not bothering to be gentle as he shouldered past the other boy.

He decided that he had been wrong in his earlier assumption. Completely and utterly wrong. There was no way anything good could come from this partnership.

~~~

As soon as he had arrived at his apartment, Keith had called Allura. He was wound up so tight from practice and all of _Lance_ that he needed someone to talk to.

“You know, you two will have to get along eventually. Better sooner than later, right?”

“Allura, there is absolutely _no_ way I’m going to work with him! He’s a prick!”

Keith held his phone to his ear, not even bothering to control his pacing as he ranted. “I mean, you should have seen him today! He didn’t even _try_ to communicate with me, and when I called him out on it, he had the audacity to blame me!” Keith’s pacing was not limited to the floor of his small room, as he smoothly stepped onto and across his bed before stepping back down. His voice had slowly been gaining volume. “At least I’m attempting to make this doubles team work, but I’m not so sure I should!” He sighed deeply, echoing his frustration from earlier that day. “I’m not even sure what his problem with me is.” He was quieter now, letting out another, smaller sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. “He seemed to work well with Hunk, when they weren’t fooling around. And even before that he was at least a decent double’s player, no matter what partner. I just don’t understand.” Keith huffed and flopped onto his bed, finally quieting to let his best friend talk.

Allura let out a sigh when she realized he was finished. “Maybe you should just talk to him, Keith.” Keith’s face reflexively scrunched up at the thought, but he remained silent. “I’m not sure why he’s so averse to playing with you, but he’s a decent fellow, and a good player too. Though he can be overwhelming at times.” Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know Allura, when Shiro switched the teams, he kind of treated playing with me like it was the worst thing ever.” Keith rolled over on the bed to lay on his stomach and bent his legs upward, letting his feet swing back and forth above him gently. “I don’t hate him, but sometimes I think that’s how he feels about me. What did I even do that would make him hate me?”

“I don’t think he hates you, Keith.” If Keith rolled his eyes anymore, they’d be lost in the back of his head. “He’s just competitive by nature, and you challenge him simply by being a rank ahead of him.” Keith let out a groan of frustration.

“That doesn’t help at all, Allura.” Keith rolled off his bed completely and started his pacing again. “It’s not like I’m actively trying to be better than him. I’m just trying to be the best player that I can be.” Keith could hear Allura sighing on the other end of the line.

“I know that Keith, and you know that, but have you ever thought that Lance does not?” Allura hummed sagely before she spoke up again. “That is why I suggested talking to him.” Allura’s tone held a certain I-told-you-so lilt to it that Keith’s pride did not appreciate.

“How do you know he’ll even listen to me? All he ever seems to want to do is argue with me.” Keith sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time during their conversation, and leaned his head against the door to his room. He began to lightly thud his forehead on the door as he let out a low whine. “Why is this so difficult?”

Allura let out a low chuckle. “Stop banging your head on the door like a baby, Keith. You’re an adult.” This did nothing to stop Keith’s ministrations, who let out another, longer, whine.

“Don’t remind me, please.” He needed to pay his bills soon, otherwise he’d forget.

With a drawn out sigh, Keith leaned away from the door. With a distinct tone of exhausted defeat, Keith muttered, “I guess I’ll try talking to him.” Allura giggled a little at that.

“You sound like that’s a death sentence Keith. It’s just talking.” Keith sighed again, sounding truly exhausted.

“That’s the _point_ , Allura. You know I’m not good with talking to people.” Social interaction was definitely not his forte, that’s why Keith generally kept to himself during school and practices.

“I know Keith. But you know as well as anybody else that communication is key to a good doubles team, even if you do not always make good use of it.” Keith visibly pouted at that, and was glad Allura couldn’t see him through the phone. He turned back to his bed to resume pacing again when he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He let out another low groan.

“Well, as much as I’d like to continue hearing about how bad I am at communicating, I have to get ready for work.” Keith’s tone softened as he began to pull his uniform out of his closet. “Thanks for talking to me, Allura.”

“Of course, Keith. That’s what friends are for, and I would be a poor excuse for a best friend if I didn’t let you whine to me on a daily basis.” They both chuckled lightly and Keith let a rare smile grace his features. “I’ll see you tomorrow Keith.”

“Bye Allura.” Keith hung up and set his phone on the bedside table. With a sigh he started changing into his uniform. Being a waiter didn’t pay all that much, but it let him keep his small apartment and his car, and thankfully his boss was fairly flexible when it came to his schedule.

With a cursory glance around the room to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything, Keith made his way out of his apartment. As he walked out to his car, he thought about his conversation with Allura. He knew she was right, but that didn’t change his growing trepidation at addressing the lack of communication between him and Lance. It wasn’t so much Lance that had him worried, though he was fairly concerned that he wouldn’t be very open to talking at all (which seemed to be the root of the problem anyway). He was mostly worried that he himself would be far too inept at “talking it out” to get anything productive out of a conversation with Lance. There was a reason that he didn’t know any of his teammates well, other than Allura. He kept to himself and on most days he was fine with that.

But Allura seemed to have at least some faith in him, so he supposed it never hurt to try.

~~~

Lance felt exhausted. He huffed out a sigh, slightly out of breath, and settled onto the bench that sat at the edge of the court. Hunk flopped down next to him, looking equally tired.

The pair had stayed long after their official practice ended to get in some extra hitting time. Normally Lance stayed by himself, simply hitting against the ball machine or practicing serves, but on occasion Hunk or Pidge would join him. Pidge had some major project to work on, so it had just been Hunk today. Lance was glad to have someone with him to distract from the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to break him.

Despite the front he had put on earlier that day, Lance knew he had been a douche. It was just so easy to get riled up when it came to Keith. Lance didn’t like to think of himself as a bad doubles partner, but when his desire to prove himself came crashing into his natural urge to oppose Keith, he found it hard to keep himself in check. Keith had been right, though he would never admit as much to him.

Lance frowned as he felt his thoughts drift to what he had been pointedly avoiding thinking of all night. Hunk noticed, and turned to his friend with a concerned look highlighting his face.

“You okay buddy?” Hunk had moved to put a hand on Lance’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Lance leaned into the touch slightly, sighing as he turned to his friend.

“I don’t know man. I was kind of a dick to Keith today, which is normal I guess, but I just wish it hadn’t given him the impression that I’m a terrible doubles partner.” Hunk gave Lance a gentle squeeze, and sent him an even gentler smile.

“You’re not a terrible doubles partner Lance.” Lance sighed again but sent Hunk a grateful smile.

“I know, but I kinda took what Pidge said to heart, and I don’t think today did anything but convince Keith that I’m a total ass to work with.”

Hunk chuckled. “You were being a bit difficult.”

“Thank you for your unwavering support, Hunk.” Lance deadpanned, sending his friend a flat, unimpressed look. He let out a small huff and dragged a hand down his face. “I wish I was actually good at something other than shoving my foot in my mouth all the time.” Hunk sighed this time, knowing exactly where this conversation would be going.

“You’re good at plenty of things Lance. And I’m almost positive you know this, if the fact that you converted your closet into a trophy room says anything.” Lance gave an almost abashed grin, but it looked a little forced.

“Half of those trophies are just pieces of plastic, Hunk. And I bet Keith has a million more than I do.” Lance had turned away and was hanging his head now as he continued to talk. “It feels like no matter what I do, Keith is always ten times better than I am.” Hunk moved closer to his friend, throwing an arm around Lance.

“Hey. Who cares what Keith does or how good he is? You’re Lance McClain. Lance the Love Doctor. Doubles partner extraordinaire. And more importantly, my best friend.” Hunk sent Lance another one of his gentle smiles as he ruffled his friend a bit. “I’ll be darned if I let you wallow here in pity because you messed up one point today during practice.” Lance sighed but a small, thankful smile graced his face as he looked back up at his friend. Hunk practically beamed. “And I’m willing to bet there’s one thing Keith isn’t doing that you are.” Lance raised his eyebrow in curious surprise.

“What would that be?” Hunk grinned as he elbowed Lance in the side.

“I bet Keith isn’t asking anyone to homecoming, eh?” Lanced perked up at this, a sly grin crossing his features as he realized what Hunk meant.

“Yeah, I bet you’re right.” Finally, Lance’s expression settled on his signature smirk as he gained more energy with each second. “And you know what, I think I’m going to ask her tomorrow!” Lance leapt up off the bench, almost vibrating with excitement as he began to hop up and down.

“Dude, I’ll help you out if you want. Since you helped me ask Shay after all.” Hunk blushed slightly as Lance wiggled his eyebrows in Hunk’s direction before turning away, already lost in thought.

“Now, what should I say? I’m thinking maybe ‘Why don’t you swing with me at homecoming?’ Hmm, no, not that one. Maybe ‘Come with me and make a racket at homecoming.’ God, no, that’s worse than the last one. Nyma would never say yes to that.” He kept muttering to himself as he bounced in front of Hunk, who looked a tad bit confused.

“I thought those were both pretty good.” Lance whirled and set a gaze of mock horror on Hunk.

“Those were _not_ good, Hunk.” He scoffed slightly and started muttering to himself again before sighing in frustration.

Hunk tried to smile in encouragement but he still looked befuddled. “I don’t get what was wrong with those other ones, Lance. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Hunk, it does have to be the perfect pick up line, or else the whole thing is pointless!” Hunk chuckled a bit and shook his head, raising his hands in concession. 

“Alright man, I guess you’re the love doctor here.” Lance nodded his head distractedly, still mumbling lines to himself. Suddenly he straightened and threw a hand in the air, letting out a loud “Aha!”

“That’s it Hunk!” Lance paused to brandish his hands dramatically, as if showcasing an attraction. “‘Are you a tennis ball? Because I’d like to hit that at homecoming!’” Lance turned a devilish grin Hunk’s way and his friend smiled brightly, brandishing an encouraging thumbs up.

“Now I have to figure out the presentation. I can’t afford to be lazy about this, Hunk. Presentation is almost as important as the line itself.” Lance had a serious look of contemplation plastered on his face now, and Hunk joined him in his brainstorming.

“You could just make a nice sign; your sister Callie can help with that.” Lance looked pensive but waved his hand dismissively after a moment.

“No, no, that’s too cliché. I need something a little more original. Something that will catch her eye.” Lance held a hand to his chin, lost deep in thought, and Hunk adopted a similar pose on the bench, trying to think of any good ideas.

“Oh Lance, what about using tennis balls to spell it out?” Lance immediately jumped, latching onto the idea.

“Yes! That could work really well, but it would be kinda hard to see if they were just laying on the court…” Lance trailed off and resumed his concentrated look. Then he snapped and turned to Hunk.

“What if we put them in the fence?” Hunk started to nod vigorously. “Since it’s kind of hard to fit normal pressure balls into the chain link fences, I bet if we talked to Pidge she could come tomorrow morning before school and depressurize some for us! Hunk this could work!” Lance pulled Hunk up from the bench and began jumping up and down with glee, his excitement contagious. Hunk gave Lance a beaming grin, glad to have helped his friend.

Once Lance let go of Hunk, he pulled his phone out of the large tennis bag next to the bench and began to text Pidge their plans. When he finished, he slipped the phone into the bag again and turned back to Hunk. He smiled, his expression softer now.

“Thanks, Hunk. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Hunk offered a soft smile that seemed to emanate warmth, and he clapped Lance on the shoulder.

“Without me, you’d lose 80% of your impulse control buddy.” Lance threw and hand against his chest in mock offense, scoffing loudly.

“Hey! I resent that! I have excellent impulse control!”

“Sure, and I’m Roger Federer.” Hunk chuckled as Lance leveled him with a flat look.

“You are most definitely not the tennis man of my dreams, Hunk.” Hunk grinned but this time his eyes held a mischevious glint.

“I still think Djokovic is better.” Lance gasped.

“You take that back! Federer is the king!” Lance lunged at Hunk, but he sidestepped and began running away. Hunk started giggling as Lance chased him around the court, attempting to catch him and pull him into a headlock. As Lance pursued Hunk, he laughed gleefully, his problems with Keith forgotten for the moment.


	2. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: After some deliberation, I went back and decided to change how the interaction with Nyma went down. I didn't really like how I vilified her and made her out to be really mean, so I changed it to something that still suited the plot and didn't make her a bitch for no reason.

To the outside eye, Lance was the picture of confidence. He stood tall on one of the back tennis courts, hands on his hips and a confident smirk on his lips. The only way one could tell if he was nervous was to be so close as to recognize his tell. Thankfully, both Hunk and Pidge fulfilled that requirement easily. They had both noticed the telltale bob of Lance’s leg, moving up and down with nervous tension.

“Lance, you’re nervous.” Pidge sent the anxious teen a concerned glance, but Lance only seemed to vaguely acknowledge Pidge’s words, muttering out a small, “Nah, I’m not nervous.” He had his eyes glued on the front gates to the courts, for obvious reasons.

Somehow the trio had managed to escape their respective classes early in order to reach the courts before Nyma. Lance had fussed for a full five minutes about the setup they had, insisting they need to make it perfect in every way possible. Lance was a stickler for details, and he would settle for nothing less than his almost impossible standards.

Hunk threw a curious gaze to Pidge, but the two simply shrugged. If Lance wanted to deny his own fretfulness, conscious or not, then they didn’t see fit to bother him beyond pointing it out. If he was already nervous, they didn’t need to add to it by nagging him about said nervousness. Either way, they figured he would break soon enough. They weren’t wrong.

“Okay guys, but what if she already has a date?” Lance had begun to jump in place now, a visible sign of his apprehension. “I bet she does, I mean homecoming _is_ this weekend. Man, I should have asked sooner, now I’ll look like an idiot in front of everyone. And Shiro will be upset because I wasted so many perfectly good tennis balls. Oh man, oh man…” At this point, Lance had started devolving into incoherent mumbles, bouncing from one foot to the other with his eyes glued to the front of the courts.

Suddenly Lance was flailing his long limbs around, squawking quietly, “Oh shit, she’s here, she’s here you guys.” He scrambled to get into position, turning to Pidge and Hunk with a wild gaze. “Guys, do I look okay?” Pidge opened her mouth to give a snarky reply, but Lance cut her off with a wave of his hand. “What am I talking about? I look gorgeous, never mind.” He attempted a cocky grin but it looked more like he was constipated. Pidge and Hunk sighed as they moved to the side, Hunk holding up a phone and a thumbs up as Lance ran a wayward hand through his hair and straightened his posture.

At the front gates, the babble of chatter could be heard as their teammates began to filter in. Lance fidgeted a bit as he raked through the crowd with his searching gaze. He had texted Nyma during the previous class, asking her to meet him on the back court he was currently occupying, and she had agreed to come before they started practice. Finally, he spotted the familiar head of long blonde hair parted into ponytails as it bobbed its way through the tennis center. Nyma was talking to her doubles partner, but she soon looked up and spotted Lance, giving him and energetic wave that he returned with vigor.

Nyma made her way over to the court they were standing on, and Lance was almost vibrating in anticipation. A couple of other players had followed her to the court, but Lance only had eyes for her. When she pushed the gate to the court open and her gaze settled on the display behind Lance, her eyes widened significantly. Lance plastered a wide grin on his face as she absorbed the scene. The fence behind Lance had his ‘perfect pick-up line’ painstakingly spelled out with tennis balls that were squished into the chain links. Lance stood with an expectant expression as Nyma came closer. She had a strange expression on her face that Lance couldn’t quite place.

“So, what do you think?” Lance gestured behind him to the display, fixing Nyma with a curious look. She had yet to say anything, but Lance hoped that expression on her face was a positive one.

“This is really sweet, Lance…” Nyma trailed off, an unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air. Her tone sounded genuine enough, but her face had steadily morphed into a look of remorse. “I’m already going to Homecoming with someone. Rolo, actually.” She paused, chewing on her lip nervously. “I know it’s kind of unexpected since our breakup was so bad, but things happen I guess. I’m really sorry Lance, it looks like you put a lot of effort into this.” Lance nodded quietly, a small and appreciative look on his face as he watched Nyma fidget uncomfortably. “I’m sorry you had to waste your time on all this.” Lance froze as Nyma kept talking. “I hope you find a nice date though; you’ll definitely make someone really happy.” Lance nodded numbly as Nyma smiled softly and turned to leave the court.

He slowly turned to look over at Hunk and Pidge, the former having dropped the phone that had been recording. Hunk’s expression was one of sympathy, while Pidge’s expression looked somewhere between concerned and pained. They both watched as Lance deflated before trudging over to lean his back on the fence, where he slid down in defeat. A few of the tennis balls were shook free by the disturbance, and they bounced about around Lance. One even landed on his head, but the teen didn’t even bother reacting to it.

Hunk and Pidge shared a look, both now concerned for their friend, as well as confused. The two knew that Lance had his fair share of rejections. They’d had a hand in many a plan to woo a prospective date for Lance. What didn’t make sense was that there had been plenty of people, guys and girls, that he’d had far more affection for than Nyma. When some had rejected him, he’d almost always taken it like a champ. Lance’s companions headed over to his slumped figure, ready to try and talk to their friend. Hunk approached first.

“Hey buddy. I’m sorry things didn’t quite go as planned.” Lance stayed quiet. “But hey, if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, we’re right here for you.” Lance sighed and looked up at Hunk. His eyes looked wet, but his expression wasn’t so much sad as it was…tired. He looked like he was drained of all energy. Then the look was gone, and Lance sniffed once then wiped his eyes quickly, standing up and giving his friends a shaky smile. 

“Nah, I don’t feel like talking about it. Let’s just play some tennis.” Lance shook himself slightly before his expression settled into a more familiar grin, and he clapped Hunk on the back. Hunk smiled at his friend, happy at least that Lance had seemed to get ahold of himself. He didn’t exactly like the idea that Lance was tucking any negative feelings away to simmer, but if Lance wanted to lose himself in tennis, then the least Hunk could do was help him do that.

~~~

Keith leaned against the cool metal door of the team storage closet. Shiro had sent him and Allura to retrieve the ball machine, which Allura was currently wheeling out the other open door. She grunted when her eyes fell on Keith lazing about.

“You know, you could help me like Shiro asked you to.” She leveled a glare Keith’s way and he merely shrugged in response, a lazy half-grin finding its way to his face. He stepped away from the door and began pushing alongside Allura. Her glare softened and she let a little content smile grace her features. They were silent for a nice, peaceful moment before Allura turned to Keith, fixing him with a mischievous grin.

“So.” Keith braced himself for whatever she had to say next. The look her eyes held was one that usually spelled trouble for Keith. “Are you going to homecoming this year?” Keith let out a sigh, then almost tripped over the ball machine as he processed Allura’s words. After a moment he regained his composure and answered Allura. 

“I don’t know. When even is homecoming?” Allura threw an incredulous look his way before she stopped the ball machine suddenly. Keith ran into it. Allura snickered but then gazed at Keith seriously.

“Do you really not know when homecoming is?” Keith shrugged while rubbing his aching nose.

“I don’t really pay attention to stuff like that.” Allura scoffed but nodded as if she had expected as much. She began pushing again.

“I suppose that’s fair. You’ve never really been much for social events.” Keith snorted. “It’s this weekend, by the way. I’d like it if you could come, since you’ve neglected to attend for the past three years.” She gave Keith a pointed look, almost accusatory, as if it were a crime to skip out on such a rite of passage. Keith stuck out his tongue briefly, then settle into thought.

“I don’t think I’d be able to make it. I have the evening shift this weekend.” Allura sighed but nodded in understanding. She reached over and pat Keith on the back lightly.

“At least it was a nice thought. You could have even found a date.” Allura fluttered her eyes with a mocking dreamy look highlighting her face. Keith snorted again and rolled his eyes.

“I doubt that would have happened.” The two pushed the ball machine onto the court Shiro was waiting on. They set up the tower and headed to where their coach stood. The older man called for all the other team members to meet up on their court. Keith glanced over at a far court, where he noticed Lance, Hunk, and Pidge walking off. He thought there was something strange about the fence, it looked spotty, but he didn’t dwell on it.

Once the entire group gathered, Shiro talked them through the few exercises they would be doing on the ball machine. They would start with some simple forehand and backhand practice. Easy enough. Keith had wanted to put in some extra time last weekend to work out the kinks of a new backhand grip that he had started using, but he had been scheduled that weekend too. Now was better than never he supposed.

Keith started at the forehand side, just to warm up his arms. The menacing machine on the other end of the court spat a ball out at him, then turned to the backhand side. Keith easily returned each ball it sent his way, and soon he made his way to the other line. His backhands were a bit shaky at first, but he found a rhythm soon enough. He felt as if he would never tire of the satisfying pang that sounded out has his racket made contact with each ball.

After several rounds, Keith had begun to work up a sweat. He reached up and wiped his brow, successfully wiping his forehead and simultaneously blocking any view he might have had of the ball that suddenly hurtled his way. He only noticed when he felt the sharp pelt of a ball striking his upper arm. He yelped (which he would vehemently deny later), and turned to see what the source of the attack was.

Across the court, Lance stood with his mouth open in a small ‘o’. He walked over to Keith swiftly, his brow turned down with slight worry.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he neared Keith, who was rubbing his sore arm. Keith shrugged. 

“I’m fine. Just try and be more careful next time.” Lance’s face went slack and he breathed a sigh of relief, his tension ebbing slightly.

“Yeah, sorry or whatever.” Lance waved his hand absentmindedly at Keith as he trailed back to the end of the line, his attention already gone once he had confirmed Keith was alright. Normally Keith would have bristled at Lance’s dismissive nature, but he was trying as best he could to remember Allura’s words, especially with her gaze locked on to him in that very moment. He opted to say nothing and made his way to the opposite line.

When he didn’t jump into heat-of-the-moment decisions, Keith found that he actually had a moment to think. Now that he stopped for a moment to ponder Lance’s words and demeanor, something was off about it. Under usual circumstances, he imagined Lance would have thrown some joking jab at how Keith deserved that ball to the arm because his last backhand was terrible. And Lance certainly wouldn’t have let even the thought of apologizing to Keith enter his brain, let alone checking on him. It seemed more like a default reaction, one that would be used on anyone he might accidentally hit with a ball. Although when Keith thought about that, it was rare for Lance to miss something so drastically. Curious, he began to study Lance as he practiced with the ball machine. 

He was skilled, Keith could admit that. There was a practiced precision that followed each stroke, but they appeared strange to Keith. Normally, Lance had more flair in his strokes, more fluid motion for easy adjusting and adding topspin to the ball. Keith himself was a power player, and relied much more on the fact that he was fast, and determined to reach each ball he could and return it as hard as he could. As he watched Lance, he noticed that the boy seemed to just be going through the motions. They were like cookie-cutter strokes, nothing special about them, no _a la Lance_ flavor to be found. If Keith wasn’t mistaken, Lance seemed…distracted. That would explain why a stroke had gone so drastically wrong, and why he had spouted an almost automatic response to it.

During a spare moment in line, Keith leaned over to Allura, who stood in front of him. Tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention, Keith whispered in a low voice.

“Hey, is it just me, or does Lance seem distracted?” Allura took a moment to turn and observe Lance, who had to be prodded to the front of the other line by Hunk when the boy didn’t step up to take his turn. Allura’s mouth turned down slightly and she nodded, turning back to Keith.

“Yes, it does look that way. Though I would not know why.” Before Keith could pose any more questions, Allura stepped up in their line to take her turn with the machine. Keith decided to drop the conversation. While he was curious, the information didn’t seem to terribly pertinent to him. If it affected their doubles at all, then perhaps he would bring it up, but for the time being, Keith was content with letting the subject slip from his mind.

~~~

Lance didn’t stay after practice that night. Pidge and Hunk had protested lightly, but they seemed to understand that Lance needed some time to himself. Neither let him leave without making sure that he knew they were there to talk things out with them if he needed it. Lance appreciated the sentiment, but he didn’t feel like burdening his best friends with the weight of his own thoughts. He supposed from their perspective the whole thing didn’t seem like as big a deal as his reaction was making it out to be. Lance didn’t blame them, they didn’t really know the full story.

Lance thought back to what they had said to him after he insisted (for at least the fifth time) that he knew he could talk to them.

“Well if you’re feeling up to it you should come with us to homecoming anyway.” Pidge spoke cautiously, as if afraid to say something wrong.

“Yeah, I bet you’d have a lot of fun and there’ll be plenty of people there without dates too.” Hunk looked hopeful, his hand on Lance’s shoulder in a sign of comfort. Lance had looked between the two of them and promised to think about it.

And in the end, he decided he would go. Lance knew he could find ways to genuinely enjoy himself, and there was no harm in a little social interaction. That was certainly a motto Lance lived by. Plus, any distraction from the recent train of thought that threatened to derail his mind was a welcome one.

So in the next few days, Lance did his best to distract himself from what his mind wanted to dwell on. He cracked jokes, he argued with Keith (though he was definitely less aggressive than usual), he even tried flirting with some of his teammates. Allura bore the brunt of this, but she was tactfully dismissive of his advances, like always.

He even managed to get himself really psyched up about the dance. He had gone out with Hunk that Saturday morning and browsed for a proper outfit for the occasion. There was no way he was going to homecoming in anything less than ‘absolutely baller’ as he had put it. After an hour and a half of shopping, Lance eventually settled on a simple black polo with a baby blue blazer and pressed khakis. Hunk decided to sport a deep yellow button up and slacks, and Lance had to admit that the two of them did indeed look ‘absolutely baller.’

That night, after Lance took at least half an hour to fix his hair, their group met up at the front of the dance venue, a local conference center their school had rented for the night. As Lance approached the group (he was the last to arrive) he bobbed up and down in excitement. He saw that Shay was with Hunk, and she wore a simple sleeveless earth tone dress that complimented her medium skin tone. Pidge was also there, talking animatedly with Hunk. She was sporting a teal sundress that stopped just above her knees, and a light brown belt wrapped around her thin frame. Sauntering up, Lance threw a lazy arm over Hunk’s shoulder.

“I have to say, the squad is on point tonight you guys. We’ve really outdone ourselves this time.” Hunk and Shay both blushed shyly while Pidge grinned proudly. She stepped up and elbowed Lance in the side.

“I’m just glad _someone_ didn’t ruin our look this year.” Pidge smirked at Lance as he threw a hand to his chest dramatically and gasped.

“Pidge, _how dare you_.” Lance leveled Pidge with his best offended expression. “I have always looked _gorgeous_ at homecoming.” Pidge rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

“Yeah, sure, if by ‘gorgeous’ you mean you looked like an outrageous peacock. I’m surprised you toned it down this year.” Lance scoffed.

“Hey! I resent that. This year I’m going for ‘subtle and suave’.” Lance leaned into Pidge’s personal space and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Pidge pushed him away but she was laughing as she did so. Lance smiled and turned to Hunk and Shay.

“Let’s head inside you guys.” Lance gestured grandly at the center behind him. “It’s time to get our party on!” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Lance strode confidently into the large building, the others trailing behind him.

After presenting their tickets to the administrators sitting at a table in front of the doors, the group entered the spacious room that was thrumming with boisterous music. The first thing to be noticed was the large glowing ball in the middle of the high set ceiling. It rotated every few seconds, switching between different colored lights that shone throughout the room. Directly below the lights was a pulsing mass of people who were all moving on the dance floor in various ways. To the left of the dancers were a multitude of tables set up, where a few people sat and talked or sipped punch quietly. To the right of the dance floor was a large backdrop set up for photos, and a few couples could be seen posing ridiculously. Behind the throng of people, a long table full of refreshments sat with several more teens milling about and picking off the food.

Shay spotted Allura first. She was seated with her date at a table closer to the back (and to the food, much to Hunk’s delight). As the group made their way over, Allura caught sight of them and waved brightly. She stood to greet them, giving Shay a hug and smiling brightly at Hunk and Pidge. While she was occupied, Lance sidled over to the seat Allura had been in to sit down quickly. He leaned his elbow on the table and perched his chin in his hand as he set a flirtatious smirk on his face. The girl that was sitting next to where Allura had been looked slightly startled when Lance set his gaze on her. He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned forward.

“Hello Gabi, you look ravishing as always.” His smirk grew wider when the girl began to blush and avert her gaze, giggling a little. However, his face immediately fell when he heard a throat clearing behind him. He turned around slowly to observe Allura hovering over him, a stern expression set upon her face.

“Lance.” Allura placed a hand delicately on his shoulder, but her firm grip betrayed her strength. “Stop flirting with my girlfriend. You know what happened last time.” Lance’s eyes glazed over and he shuddered slightly, remembering _exactly_ what Allura was talking about. He nodded meekly and stood from the chair, pulling it out for Allura like a proper gentleman. Allura’s frightening glare changed in an instant and she smiled amiably, taking the seat Lance offered graciously. Lance shook his head to gather himself then took a seat on the other side of the table. Hunk and Shay sat to his left, while Pidge settled on his right. Once they were all seated they started up several different conversations. Shay asked Lance about his next tournament, Pidge talked about TV shows with Gabi (they were both avid enthusiasts of crime investigation drama), and Hunk talked to Allura about a cat video he had seen the other day. The range of topics was not unusual for the teens, and they enjoyed talking amongst each other for a while.

Eventually Hunk declared a food break, insisting that the refreshments were calling his name. Lance went with him, interested in seeing what the school had to offer in the food department. Mini corndogs, nachos, soft peppermints, and a large bowl of deep red punch awaited them at the table. Hunk opted to grab some nachos while Lance grabbed at least ten mini corndogs. They tried the punch toghether. It tasted like someone had mixed an entire box of Caprisun pouches with red grape juice and a gallon of pink lemonade. Lance loved it instantly, and Hunk declared it an abomination to all things good. They made their way back to the table, where Pidge proceeded to steal some of Lance’s mini corndogs while Hunk shared his nachos with Shay.

When they were done, Lance was the first to jump out of his seat. He started bouncing to the beat of the song playing and circled the table, crying out “come on you guys” and patting each person as he passed to encourage them to get up. One by one they rose to his summons and made their way to the dance floor.

Lance immediately began his own strange version of dancing, which involved heavy hip shaking and fast footwork, and a fair amount of shimmying. He somehow made it look good, and soon his friends were laughing and joining him in his silly dancing. They did this until the song ended, and a slower beat started up. Allura and Gabi as well as Hunk and Shay quickly paired off for the slow dance, leaving Lance and Pidge. Lance bowed low and flourished his arm wildly, offering a hand to Pidge with a stupid grin on his face. She laughed heartily at his display but took his offered hand. They danced for a bit, and then Lance spun Pidge suddenly, drawing out a few giggles from her as he narrowly avoided hitting a couple dancing near them.

After a few more moments of vanilla slow dancing, Pidge’s eyes grew wide and a shit eating grin consumed her expression. Lance raised a brow, slightly intrigued but also terrified.

“Dude, how far up do you think you could throw me?” Pidge’s face was alight with wild excitement and Lance couldn’t help but match her mischievous grin.

“Why don’t we find out?” Pidge grinned even wider at that and braced herself as Lance grabbed her small waist and launched her into the air. She went a good three feet up, which Lance was proud of. Pidge was cackling like mad and drawing the attention of several couples that were around them, including their friends. Lance caught her nimbly and grinned as he set her down. 

“That was fucking _awesome_!” Pidge sounded a little breathless and her hair seemed a bit tousled and out of place, but she was beaming all the same.

They resumed their dance, and true to their form they couldn’t stick to the plain old basics. Lance suggested a game of tag, nodding his head towards Allura and Gabi, who were wrapped up in each others’ arms lovingly, hopelessly oblivious to Pidge and Lance’s scheming. The two tricksters swayed their way over to the dancing couple, leaning their joined hands over to prod the two and exclaim childishly, “tag!” Gabi giggled a little at them, and Allura smiled good-naturedly. The two swayed off to tag Hunk and Shay, who were blushing messes as they beamed at one another. After the other couple was tagged, they proceeded to tag their own target, and so on and so forth. Lance and Pidge chuckled as they watched the strange game of tag traverse over the dance floor until the slower song faded and gave way to another pulsing beat. They broke away from each other and Lance bowed with great flourish once again, while Pidge dipped into a sloppy curtsy. They laughed together and made their way back to the table with the rest of the group, who were shaking their heads in amusement at Pidge and Lance’s antics.

Lance sighed happily as he settled into his seat, picking up his neglected cup of punch and sipping on it idly. He decided, as his eyes roamed slowly across the hoards of teenagers, that it had been worth it to come. He was enjoying himself, and that was something he had needed. His gaze continued to lazily cross over the crowd, and he briefly wondered if any of their other teammates were at the dance.

Lance’s eyes couldn’t help but zero in when he saw her. She looked stunning as Lance watched her weave through the crowd in a pale peach dress, long blonde hair bobbing up and down and a tall boy with short bleached hair and a sharp nose hanging off her arm. Echoes of what had been said flitted through his mind and his hands instinctively clenched into fists. Lance didn’t notice until his small plastic cup cracked, spewing punch all over his front. His friends all turned to him, faces painted with varying shades of confusion and concern. 

Laughing awkwardly and forcing a smile on his face, Lance excused himself and got up to go do damage control on his outfit. When he reached the bathroom, he braced himself on the sink, hands settling on the edge of the tile counter. His knuckles started turning white as he gripped the front of the sink. He pointedly ignored the couple that could be heard obviously making out in the largest stall in favor of pulling some paper towels from the dispenser next to him. He did the most he could to squeeze the weak punch from his shirt, thanking the heavens that the stain wouldn’t be too noticeable on his black shirt. Sighing, Lance tossed the crumpled paper into the trash and returned to leaning on the sink. 

He had forgotten that Nyma would be here. He had only come to the dance on the so that he could distract himself from what she had said, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at his knee jerk reaction. It had hit him hard, despite her rather benign intentions of letting him down easy. Lance wished he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it, but he supposed that wasn’t how childhood trauma worked. He let out a long-suffering sigh and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was slightly tousled and his brow shone with a small amount of sweat. He wiped at it helplessly, only smudging his foundation in the process.

Pushing off the sink with a sigh, Lance did his best to calm his breathing, which at some point had become erratic and shallow. Sucking in a few deep breathes helped, and soon he felt ready to step out of the restroom.

He carefully made his way over to the table his group had occupied. They were all talking amongst each other like they had been before he left, with one visible difference. Rolo and Nyma were there, and they were having a conversation with Hunk and Shay. Pidge sat on the other side of the table, not really engaged in any kind of conversation. Allura and Gabi were chatting amicably between each other, occasionally throwing a flirty smirk or wink to the other. All in all, the table looked rather normal, but Lance couldn’t help the heavy feeling of dread in his stomach.

Lance sucked in a few more deep breathes that seemed less effective than before and walked up to the table. He pasted on the best smile he could muster, but he knew it would look fake no matter what.

Rolo noticed Lance first. He had stopped talking to Hunk and Shay, and looked like he was trying to decide what to do with himself. He raised a hand awkwardly in a small wave at Lance, which was returned with a flourish of Lance’s hand that was perhaps a tad bit too dramatic. Lance always did have a penchant for exaggerating while in distress. He muttered out a quiet and awkward “Rolo” as he nodded his head to the other young man.

By now the entire group had noticed Lance approaching. Shay was smiling slightly at Lance, and Hunk looked relieved. Pidge looked a bit concerned as he approached, and Allura held a questioning look on her face. As Lance took in all of them, he hesitated to turn to Nyma. He didn’t want her to think that he was upset about her rejecting him, because that wasn’t what it was about for him. He didn’t quite trust himself to not break down if he tried to talk to her, but he forged on anyway, mustering up the best smile he could as Nyma beamed in his direction. He nodded amicably and sat down, and soon the table returned to the conversations they had been having. He only half-listened to their talking, until some of Nyma’s words violently caught his attention. 

“God, don’t you hate it when people waste your time with useless things?” Lance could have sworn he broke his neck with how fast he swiveled to face Nyma, who he was sure didn’t realize what she had said was exactly what Lance didn’t need. The words had been so casual, part of a harmless conversation between teammates, but Lance could feel himself tense up as the words sank under his skin like poison.

His fists were shaking from the effort of maintaining his fragile composure. He needed to get out. It would do him no good to break down here, especially in a crowded and public place like the dance. Lance leaned over to Hunk and tapped him on the shoulder lightly. The tall boy turned to face Lance, worry etched on his expression as he observed Lance’s obviously flustered state. He raised a brow to prompt Lance to speak. 

“I think I’m gonna bounce for a little bit Hunk. I’m not quite feeling it anymore.” Hunk looked like he wanted to question Lance, but he instead nodded in understanding, patting his friend on the back. With a short nod to Pidge, Lance was off. He walked quickly out of the room and to the front doors, not trusting himself to stick around any longer. When he left the center, the cool night air wasn’t as refreshing as Lance thought it would be, but he walked out to his car regardless. Settling into the driver’s seat, Lance sighed heavily. 

He knew what he needed. He needed a distraction. It was the one failsafe he always returned to, no matter what the circumstance.

With another sigh Lance put his keys into the ignition and started his car. Pulling out his phone, Lance looked up directions to the nearest fast food joint. He put his phone into a small space on his dash and turned up the volume so he could hear the directions before he buckled up and started driving. Food would be a fine distraction. Maybe there would even be a hot cashier to flirt with.

~~~

It was an extremely slow night. There had been maybe three customers in the last hour, and Keith was bored out of his mind. He had already gone through the kitchen and cleaned up what he could, and he had even taken inventory of the food that the restaurant still had. Now he was simply sitting atop the counter next to the register, swinging his legs idly as he scrolled through his phone. His coworkers weren’t doing much either, just messing around with one another in the back. Keith had politely declined to join their shenanigans, as was per the usual. He didn’t take the time to get to know them enough to be comfortable around them, and he didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon.

However, in that moment he was starting to regret that decision severely. He had been scrolling on social media long enough that he had reached posts he’d already seen before, and was thus out of new content to mindlessly scroll through. Keith sighed and leaned back on his hands, wishing for anything to satiate his poorly neglected brain.

He had not anticipated that his wish might grant him the next customer that walked in.

A disheveled Lance blew through the door with a dark grimace on his face. He looked like he was dressed up, and Keith suddenly remembered that Allura had briefly mentioned it being homecoming night. He slid off the counter and slipped his phone into his pocket as Lance approached the register. The boy didn’t seem to notice that it was Keith in front of him, his eyes glued to the glowing menu above. Keith cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke up.

“Hi, uh, what can I get you today?” Lance didn’t look down, still perusing his options with a scowl, as if the menu was to blame for his foul mood. He muttered quietly to himself before answering. 

“I guess I’ll have a medium chocolate milkshake and small fries.” Keith punched in the order and looked back up at Lance, who was still glaring at the sign above him.

“Will that be all, Lance?” At the mention of his name, Lance tore his gaze from the menu and looked down, finally observing Keith in front of him. His features softened slightly in surprise, but he still looked disgruntled. 

“Oh. Hi Keith. Yeah, that’ll be all.” Keith nodded at him and looked back down at the register to finalize his purchase. Lance pulled out a wallet and swiped a card to pay before slipping it into his back pocket. “I didn’t know you worked here.” Keith shrugged indifferently.

“Not a lot of people from our area come here, so I’m not surprised.” Lance nodded distractedly and didn’t respond. He already seemed lost in thought again. Keith could see his jaw tightening and his eyes hardening into a sharp glare once more. Something was obviously eating at Lance, and Keith couldn’t help but be curious as to what it was. Finding out would certainly be more interesting than sitting around on his phone was.

He turned to the kitchen and began to dispense the milkshake while one of his coworkers cooked up some fries. Lance’s order was ready after a moment and the boy took it gratefully from Keith before retreating to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Keith stood at the cash register, unsure of what to do.

He watched as Lance began to stuff fries in his mouth and vehemently consume the chocolate milkshake. It was painful to watch.

Keith was immensely curious as to what put the boy before him in such a frenzy. But he was afraid to cross any unspoken lines that might be between them. Would it be weird if he asked him what was wrong? They were doubles partners, but Keith wasn’t sure how much that really entailed when it came to social boundaries.

Eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and he walked around the counter and over to Lance’s booth. He sat down in the cushioned seat across from Lance and almost immediately started drumming is fingers on the table’s surface nervously. Lance glanced up at Keith briefly, his lips sealed around the straw to his drink. If he was going to ask Keith to leave, he gave no indication of doing so, simply returning back to his fries. They were almost gone. Finally, Keith spoke up.

“So…what’s gotten you so worked up?” Lance looked up again, his brow quirking and he sipped on the last bits of his milkshake. He detached himself from the drink and leveled Keith with a flat look.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Keith gaped and floundered for a bit, unsure of what to do or say. He hadn’t expected a response like that. He wasn’t sure what he expected, if he was being honest. After a moment he gathered himself and spoke up.

“Yeah, I guess I’d like to know. It beats sitting on the counter constantly refreshing Tumblr.” Lance studied Keith for a moment before he shrugged with that same indifference and leaned back.

“Maybe some other time.” Keith wasn’t all that surprised that Lance had declined to share, but he was surprised when Lance started to speak. 

“So I asked Nyma to homecoming on Tuesday.” Lance paused and took another sip of his shake. “It was real big and cute and everything. But it turned out that she already had a date with Rolo, funnily enough.” He chuckled quietly, but the sound was strange and a little forced. “And yeah, I’ve had rejections plenty before. So this wasn’t much different than any other time." Lance didn’t really pause to let Keith join the conversation, but he didn’t mind all that much. “I decided to go anyway though, cause all my friends are go, so why not?” He stopped to take another drink of his slowly disappearing milkshake. “It wasn’t too bad, the food was good and the music was mediocre.” Lance’s face lit up almost comically as he realized something. “I threw Pidge up like five feet!” Keith was rather shocked at that new tidbit of information, but before he could say anything, Lance was off again, talking about some kind of tag, and everyone’s outfits, and any other topic he could think of. They sat like that for a while, Lance rambling on about whatever odd subject came to his mind, and Keith sitting quietly and listening. Eventually Lance tired out, heaving a large sigh before slumping into the cushions of the booth.

Keith leaned back and tried to process everything that Lance had said (though he knew it was a lost cause). It was a lot to take in. Suddenly he remembered an offhand observation he’d had and he took the opportunity to voice his thoughts. 

“Wait, so is Nyma rejecting you why you were distracted on Tuesday during practice?” Keith watched Lance pensively as the boy’s eyes widened slightly. 

“You noticed?” Lance looked shocked for a moment before his face morphed into a smug grin. “Aww, were you worried?” Lance batted his eyelashes mockingly in Keith’s direction. Keith scowled at him.

“You hit me with a ball, Lance. I wanted to make sure I’d be ready if it happened again.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I guess it sucks that you’re my doubles partner then.” Keith rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you’d just communicate with me.” Lance waved a hand dismissively in Keith’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Leave that stuff on the court man, I’m not feeling it right now.” Keith quieted at Lance’s request. They sat there a bit awkwardly as a silence fell over them. It was only broken by the light buzzing of Lance’s phone a moment later. He pulled out the device and checked it, spending a few moments to read the notifications. Suddenly a grin broke out on Lance’s face. Keith raised an eyebrow as Lance looked back up at him with a glint in his eye.

“Pidge says she wants to try and coordinate some other daredevil stunts on the dance floor.” Lance chuckled a bit as he responded. “I wouldn’t mind trying to see just how much we can get away with before security escorts us out.” Lance stood with a small smirk on his face. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna head out now and meet back up with the others.” Keith just nodded and Lance made his way towards the door. 

Just before he left the building, Lance turned around.

“Hey Keith.” Keith looked up questioningly. “Thanks for listening, I guess.” Keith held back the urge to snort at the last bit.

“Well, you’re welcome, I guess.” The smirk on Lance’s lips turned into a small smile. He stood there in the door a little longer, worrying his lip as if he wanted to say more. But he simply shook his head and let out a small huff of breath.

“See you on Monday, Keith.” Lance put up a hand in a small wave and Keith responded in kind.

“You too, Lance.” Keith watched the other boy as he let the door swing close and exited the building. He wasn’t quite sure what that brief interaction between them had been, but he hoped that it at least meant they were making some progress.

Keith would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested to see how practice would turn out on Monday.


	3. Practice Makes Not So Perfect

When Keith showed up to practice Monday afternoon, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with Lance as far as their less than practical partnership was concerned, and he certainly didn’t know how to personally feel about the loudmouthed youth. As far as Keith knew, they were at least on speaking terms now, which was better than when they started this whole ordeal. He just hoped that things would at least be better this week than the last.

 

Keith spent the first ten minutes or so of practice keeping up a few relaxed rallies with Allura, easing into the familiar feeling of a racket in his hand as he pushed the ball back and forth. He always appreciated the lax nature of any practice he partook of with Allura; she never pressured him to make a rally more intense or faster paced. They kept an easy rhythm on the court as they warmed up for whatever activities Shiro had in mind for the team that day. 

 

As per the usual schedule, Mondays were reserved for doubles practice. Something settled in Keith’s stomach as he neared the court their coach was waiting on. He had the distinct feeling that it was a strange mix of nervous energy and the small curling of hope that had started to manifest itself. 

 

Keith couldn’t deny that a small part of him wanted his new partnership with Lance to go well. As obnoxious and infuriating as Lance could be, Keith still recognized his talent for the sport they shared. He figured based on the sole fact that they were the top two players, that their combined skill could make them a good team on some level. And he assumed that was what drove Coran and Shiro to pair them together. 

 

Shiro.

 

He was another reason Keith wanted this doubles team to work. Ever since Shiro had started personally coaching Keith during his years in middle school, Keith had looked up to the man. He was practically an older brother to Keith, if not a father figure of sorts. Shiro had swooped in during a tumultuous time for Keith and had driven him to regain his passion for the sport. Since then he had been a constant source of support and advice for Keith as he continued to play tennis. Keith would be damned if he didn’t try to make this work at least in some way, for Shiro’s sake, in return for everything he had done for him. His coach had faith in him, and that was something Keith didn’t take lightly. 

 

When Keith finally arrived at the court the team was gathering, he navigated around the mass of people to stand off to the side, but still within earshot. Soon the entire team was gathered and Shiro relayed instructions. 

 

“Alright team, today we’re trying something a bit new. Coran found a new doubles drill that he thinks would be helpful for doubles teams’ communication.” The whole group of students let out a collective groan. Coran was known for finding very strange and unusual drills for the athletes to run through. One time he had tried to get the team to play a drill he called ‘dingles.’ Keith remembered that the ginger man had insisted quite vehemently that it was a combination of the words ‘singles’ and ‘doubles,’ and not some horrible disease. 

 

Shiro chuckled a bit before continuing. “I know, I know.” He raised his hands in concession as he addressed his team, his prosthetic arm gleaming a bit in the sunlight. “Some of Coran’s ideas have been rather…eccentric,” Coran let out a soft ‘hey!’ while Shiro continued, “but I think this drill could be quite effective. I’ll let you explain the details for them, Coran.” Shiro stepped back and allowed his assistant coach the floor to speak to the team. 

 

“Alright everyone!” Coran rubbed his hands together excitedly, stepping forward towards the team with a gleam in his eye. Most of the teens eyed him warily, bracing for the worst. Keith listened on, indifferent to his teammates’ trepidation. “Now I know what you’re all thinking- What has Coran cooked up for us this time?” Many of the team members nodded slowly in agreement, hesitant to embrace the same enthusiasm their assistant coach was exuding. Shiro watched the whole scene with silent amusement. “Well I’ve got just the thing for all your doubles needs!” Coran waved a hand extravagantly as he pointed to Allura. “Allura, would you and your partner be willing to help Shiro and I demonstrate for the team?” Allura nodded politely, gliding over to one side of the court with Shay in tow, the two sharing a friendly smile before settling into their preferred positions on the court. Coran strolled to the other end of the court and was joined by Shiro before turning to face the other members of the team again.

 

“So the first thing you’ll need to know about this drill is that you’ll be moving around quite a lot!” Some of the athletes groaned at this, but Coran soldiered on, unaffected. “Each time you or your partner hits a ball, you’ll need to switch sides of the court. Allow us to demonstrate!” With a dramatic twirl of his mustache, Coran turned and nodded to Allura, who fed a ball to the coaches on the other end of the court. Keith watched as Shiro sent back a simple return, but as soon as the man did, he was sidestepping to his left as Coran was shuffling to the right, racket raised and ready for whatever may come his way. Allura and Shay seemed to catch on quickly, scurrying to switch positions as soon as Shay sent the ball back over the net. The back and forth between doubles teams continued on for a moment until one of Allura’s shots landed just shy of the court’s boundaries. Coran turned back to the team, who had all been watching the exchange attentively. 

 

With just the short demonstration, Keith had a grasp the basic premise of the drill, understanding what it was meant to do. It was a drill that forced you to not only be aware of the ball, but also your partner. It required partners to work in tandem, able to cover each other smoothly while transitioning between sides of the court. A groan of frustration almost left Keith’s mouth as he realized he would have to attempt to do all these things with _Lance._ He supposed he would just have to exercise some patience. 

 

Coran spoke up again, his strange accent cutting into Keith’s thoughts. “Now I want you all to pair off, find another double’s team to hit with. You’ll be playing out short games, first to eleven points wins.” There was a short scramble as friends attempted to find one another in order to play against each other. Keith threw a glance over at Lance, who was standing next to Hunk and all but clinging to the larger boy, presumably begging him to be the team they played against. It only took a few moments for Hunk to seemingly relent, as Lance straightened up with a yelp of triumph, fist pumping in the air. 

 

After the scuffle of the team settled down, Coran doled out court assignments and instructed them on how to switch opponents based on who won and who lost. Keith wandered over to Lance and Hunk as the other teens dispersed to their respective courts. Matt had joined the other two athletes, and they were all talking animatedly. Keith caught the back end of the conversation as he ambled up to the group. 

 

“Dude, you should have seen it! She flew like, _at least_ five feet up!” Lance was gesturing wildly as he pantomimed throwing something up above him. Keith raised his brow but didn’t interrupt the conversation. 

 

“What?!” Matt practically squawked, gaping at Lance as he grinned widely. Hunk rested a hand on Matt’s shoulder as he spoke up. 

 

“If it helps, it was more like three feet.” Lance yelped, scandalized, but Hunk ignored him. He was smiling apologetically down at the other boy, despite his comment having little to no effect on Matt’s utterly shocked and slightly horrified expression. 

 

“What if you hadn’t caught her?!” The short boy’s tone was indignant as he pushed into Lance’s personal space, expression furious. But the lanky athlete seemed wholly unaffected by Matt’s aggressive approach.

 

“Oh come on, I knew what I was doing! Have some faith in me, I had it covered.” The tan teen looked far too smug, vainly inspecting his nails as Matt practically frothed at the mouth next to him. Keith couldn’t help the snort that wormed its way out of him. Lance’s gaze flickered over to him, eyes squinting at the source of the offending noise. 

 

“What?” Lance questioned, raising a brow at Keith. “You don’t have faith in me, Mullet?” A small sneer tugged at Lance’s lips as he drawled out the nickname for Keith that he’d dubbed since day one. Keith scoffed at him incredulously before shrugging noncommittally.

 

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to have faith in, but I know if it’s you I’m definitely a non-believer.” Lance’s reaction was immediate, his brows practically disappearing into his hairline as he stared at Keith in disbelief, mouth flapping soundlessly in an attempt to spit out any kind of retort. Before the boy could muster any kind of response, Shiro’s stern voice cut across the courts. 

 

“Keith, Lance! Quit arguing and get on the court!” The two boys turned sheepishly to the sound of Shiro’s voice, realizing belatedly that Hunk and Matt had abandoned them in favor of claiming one end of the court they were on. They spared a small glance at one another and trudged to the opposite end of the court. 

 

After a small argument about who would take forehand and backhand on the court, and another verbal admonishment from Shiro, the two boys settled begrudgingly onto the court to face Matt and Hunk. Keith eyed Lance from where he stood on the backhand side of the court, noticing the small sway of Lance’s body as he balanced on the balls of his feet, racket up, knees bent, ready for the ball about to travel across the net to their side of the court. It was the standard ready position, one that Shiro spent countless times grilling into each of the players on his team. Tennis was nothing if not about form. But as Keith took a moment to study Lance, he noticed something else, something strangely familiar. 

 

It was just like the week before, when Lance had accidentally pegged Keith in the arm. The sheer plainness of Lance’s pose, the basic position they all fell back on. There was no personality to Lance in that moment, and Keith wondered why that bothered him. 

 

He was drawn from his thoughts as Matt fed the ball across the court to him, and any musings about his doubles partner quickly fled his mind. He focused on the ball, on the feeling of swinging through a backhand to propel the ball back to the other side of the court. He focused on the controlled movements of his feet as he swiftly moved to the forehand side of the court. He only realized moments later, when he turned to his left expecting to see his partner, that Lance hadn’t moved for the first few seconds after Keith hit the ball. 

 

Keith turned his gaze behind him to see Lance lurching to the left, panic obvious on his face as he attempted to take up the wide open space that had been left on their court. But Hunk had already decided to take advantage of the blatant chink in their armor, and sent a smooth stroke into the very open space Lance was rushing to close. In a valiant last-ditch effort, Lance heaved himself over and flicked a weak one-handed backhand in the direction of the other end of the court, but it fell just under the top of the net, rolling to the ground pitifully. Lance looked up at Keith, a vaguely apologetic expression on his face. Keith sucked in a sharp breath, trying to bury the already rising annoyance he felt prickling within him. He didn’t hold his tongue though. 

 

“You know the whole concept of this drill is to switch sides with your partner, right?” Keith’s voice came out sharp and stilted, and he fixed Lance with a mild glare. Any signs of the briefly sorry look drained away from Lance’s face as he scowled at Keith. 

 

“Yes, I know that,” Lance bit back, waving a hand dismissively. “I was just, distracted, or whatever.” Lance huffs as he crosses his arms, practically pouting. Keith rolls his eyes and decides better of poking fun at Lance’s quite childish behavior. He sighs quietly, turning away from Lance.

 

“Just, pay more attention okay?” Lance grunts in acknowledgment, which Keith accepts as an answer despite the irritation that flares up inside him again. 

 

From the other end of the court, Hunk calls out the score and feeds the ball again. The two doubles teams settle into a sort of pattern, no one quite gaining a huge upper hand at first, evenly matched in their skill. However, that pattern soon begins to break apart. 

 

It starts when Keith impulsively lunges for a ball that definitely could have been covered by Lance, had he stopped momentarily to think. But he didn’t, and his thoughtless action left his own side open as he and Lance scrambled to figure out which side they should be on, all without saying a word to one another. The point ended soon after, Matt having taken full advantage of their confusion in order to send a shot deep in the backcourt and out of reach of the fumbling athletes. 

 

Realizing there was no use scrambling anymore, Keith straightens to fix Lance with a glare that the other boy matches. He speaks up first. 

 

“Why didn’t you let me get that? I would’ve had it just fine, thank you very much!” Keith flushes with embarrassment and anger as he realizes Lance is probably right, but he’s not about to admit it. 

 

“Why didn’t you call the ball? Then maybe I wouldn’t be so in the dark about whether or not you can cover me!” Keith’s fist has balled up at his side, and Lance scoffs incredulously. 

 

“Oh yeah, like you did such a great job of calling the ball either! Maybe I would have been in the right spot if you let me in on whatever the hell you were trying to do!” Lance’s hands are flailing around as he rants, frustration painting his facial features. Keith wants to stomp over and rip Lance a new one, just really let him have it, but he catches himself, reels his anger in, taking in a huge gulp of air as he attempts to calm himself a little bit. With a loud huff he turns away from Lance, mumbling out, “Whatever. Let’s just play the next point.” Lance lets out a small groan of annoyance but doesn’t pursue the topic. 

 

They begin to fall behind, their coordination severely lacking as Keith finds himself increasingly frustrated with how far they’ve fallen behind. When Keith realizes they’re at match point, he sets his gaze determinedly on the other end of the court, hoping that he and Lance don’t manage to mess this point up in any remarkable fashion. 

 

It starts off tame enough, a light back and forth, each team remembering to switch sides after each return. Keith and Lance were both still hanging in the backcourt, returning easy groundstrokes as they came their way. Nothing about it screamed disaster. 

 

Until Matt decided to slice a return, pushing the ball gently over the net by a few feet. It was really a beautiful drop-shot, but Keith didn’t have any room in his mind for admiring his teammate when all he could think to do was _run, get the ball_. He was so focused, in fact, that he didn’t notice that Lance had the same thing in mind.

 

They collided rather spectacularly, the full force of two sprinting teens combining in a mess of limbs and tennis rackets before they both collapsed onto the court groaning, the ball they were both rushing to forgotten. Keith laid there for a moment clutching his throbbing head, trying not to think about the way his whole body ached just a bit from being thrown to the ground. He could hear Lance at his side, groaning pitifully. At the sound, Keith sat up in a rush, pent up anger boiling to a peak inside him. He regretted it instantly as his head swam momentarily, but soon he could see straight and he set his furious gaze on Lance, who still laid motionless on the ground. Hunk called over from the other side of the net, worry lacing his tone. 

 

“Hey, are you guys okay?” Keith didn’t look up to reply, still glaring at Lance. 

 

“Yeah, just _peachy_ ,” Keith ground out, his voice strained and muscles taught. Lance finally opened his eyes to look at Keith, setting him with and equally scathing gaze. 

 

“Oh yeah Hunk, we’re fucking _fantastic_ ,” Lance spat, sitting up on his elbows. Keith laughed bitterly, pulling himself up from the ground. He didn’t offer a hand to Lance, who grumbled as he pulled himself up off the ground in similar fashion. When he was standing once again he stared at Keith expectantly, a hand perched on his hip in a rather sassy fashion. 

 

“As long as mullet here watches where he’s going next time then things should continue to be _fantastic_.” Lance said it like he was talking to Hunk, but Keith knew his words were directed at him, and he was _not_ about to deal with Lance’s bullshit.

 

“I was watching where I was going, the problem was you!” Keith’s patience is gone, and his voice is sharp and heated. “Maybe if you communicated like I’ve been asking you _from the beginning_ , we wouldn’t have problems like this!” His hands are trembling at his side, clenched into fists as he tries halfheartedly to reign in his anger. Lance takes a step forward, his brows furrowed and mouth downturned as he points an accusing finger Keith’s way. 

 

“Maybe I would communicate if _somebody_ decided to tell me what the hell he’s trying to do!” Keith barks out a sarcastic laugh, surprised by the nerve Lance has to ask _him_ to communicate. 

 

“Until you start calling balls properly, I’m keeping my mouth shut, _McClain_.” Lance throws up his hands in exasperation as Keith turns to walk off the court. Their match was over, and he figured it was time to switch opponents. 

 

“F-fine! Well I’m not talking either, _Kogane_!” Lance spits out Keith’s name like a curse, but he could care less. He’s already halfway off the court and on his way to the next doubles team they have to play. He’s going too fast to notice that Nyma her partner had been on the court for their last point.

 

Aside from a few bitter jabs at each other, Keith and Lance were silent through the rest of practice.

~~~

Lance was in the mood to be distracted as he walked into the school’s tennis complex on Wednesday.

 

Footwork and endurance were on today’s schedule. It wasn’t Lance’s favorite, but he would take it. It could certainly provide an adequate distraction from the thoughts that had been swirling through his mind at an increased rate since Saturday. 

 

Monday had been an okay start to the week. He knew he and Keith could have done far better during their doubles drill, and they had inevitably bickered during the whole process, but he had kept his mind off heavier things like he wanted to. So Lance marked it as a relative success in his book. He had even managed to do the same for Tuesday’s practice, but today he had opened the doors of his mind a small amount, had let his mind wander briefly, and the things he had been trying to smother threatened to break loose and strangle him. It was this threat of mental asphyxiation that drove him to dive headfirst into practice, hoping to push aside all the things weighting down on him. 

 

So as Shiro gathered the team to explain which short exercises they would be rotating through in stations with their doubles partner, Lance didn’t complain, not even when he realized he had to go through the stations with Keith. The other boy seemed less than enthused, but Lance decided that he would make the best of this situation. If he focused on his rivalry with Keith, then there would be no room for stray thoughts of things better left alone. 

 

The first station they were at was a simple training ladder laid out on the ground, one that they had to move through with careful but quick steps. He turned to Keith, a devilish grin on his face. 

 

“Hey Kogane, I bet I can go through this ladder faster than you can.” Keith didn’t even hesitate to accept his challenge. 

 

“You’re on McClain.” 

 

Lance went first, plowing through the ladder with reckless abandon, his feet flying through with precise steps. He called on his two years of dance class to keep his motion fluid and controlled. When he finished he turned to watch Keith go through the ladder. His steps were stiff and quick, but Lance didn’t fail to notice that Keith was quicker than him, if only by a small margin. 

 

Keith smirked at Lance, his expression smug. Lance frowned a bit and turned to go through the ladder again, not bothering to race anymore. 

 

Soon they moved on to the next station, where some cones had been set up for ski lunges. Lance grinned and elbowed Keith excitedly. 

 

“I’ll count how many cones you knock down if you count how many I knock down. Loser has to take care of the water jug after practice.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows at Keith, who set him with a deadpan stare. After a moment he shrugged and turned to the cones, muttering a small ‘fine.’ 

 

When Shiro called out for the athletes to switch stations again, Lance turned to Keith expectantly, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. 

 

“You knocked down three cones, Kogane. Losing your edge?” Lance leaned over into Keith’s personal space, grinning widely. A small smirk formed on Keith’s face at his words. 

 

“If I’m losing my edge at three cones, then you’re losing yours too.” Lance stared at Keith, his grin slipping into a confused pout. “Four cones, McClain,” Keith quipped, pushing Lance back and heading to the next station. Lance followed, complaining loudly about the injustice of the world. 

 

After several more competitions over various exercises, Lance was feeling like the world was out to get him. He’d won a few of them, but Keith had proved to be quite proficient at a lot of the footwork maneuvers they were practicing, especially the ones involving speed. But with each new challenge Lance proposed, he could see that Keith’s patience was eroding away bit by bit. 

 

That didn’t stop him from poking Keith in the arm as they each picked up a jump rope.

 

“Dude, let’s see who can get the most jumps in before Shiro tells us to switch.” 

 

At that Keith whirled on him and all but snarled, face set in a deep scowl. Lance took a step back, frightened by the vehemence of the dark-haired teen in front of him. 

 

“If I do this last challenge, will you stop _asking me_?” Keith was up in Lance’s face now, piercing him with dark eyes that spoke volumes to how much Lance had tried his patience. Lance raised his hands in surrender and simply nodded. Keith sighed and stepped back, seemingly relieved, while muttering, “We’re supposed to be improving our foot work, not competing…” 

 

Lance silently counted how many jumps he fit in, and was not surprised when Keith’s number was higher but just a small margin. The rest of the stations went by without anymore attempts by Lance to challenge Keith. 

 

When the entire team had rotated through all the stations, Coran led them all to the track to run a mile. It wouldn’t be timed, so Lance decided to pull out his iPod and headphones, sliding the small device into his pocket and fitting the buds into his ears. He started up a playlist on shuffle and lined up with the rest of the team, who were all waiting at one end of the track. 

 

Coran gave the go ahead, and the teens all started off down the lanes of the track. It didn’t take long for them to separate into several groups: the kids who sprinted the first lap, the ones who paced themselves throughout, the ones who hung back at first then increased pace near the end, and the kids who simply didn’t care and ran at a leisurely pace. Lance found himself near the front, not sprinting like some, but running at a decent pace, just a few feet behind Keith. 

 

Lance was almost tempted to increase his pace to catch up, just to see how Keith would react. But he thought better of it, remembering the hostile expression Keith had fixed him with when they had been on the jump ropes. Aside from that, Lance felt like taking a breather for a bit. He had been pushing himself all day trying to compete with Keith, and had spent the better part of his energy trying to get a rise out of the other boy. It had proved a useful distraction, as Keith had invariably risen to the challenge on each occasion that Lance dared to engage with him. But now that Lance jogged silently, just trailing behind his doubles partner, he let his mind wander. 

 

He thought of all the exercises that they had done that day. Despite the fact that he had challenged Keith in an attempt to focus on being competitive (and it had worked), he couldn’t help but feel like shit now. Almost every instance that he had competed against Keith, the other athlete had managed to one-up Lance. He always managed to one-up Lance, he’d been doing it for four years. It seemed as if no matter what Lance did, he would never surpass Keith.

 

All at once Lance struggled to push back the sudden tide of insecurity that was pounding against his mental walls, screaming for release, teaming and writhing with anticipation at being freed. His steps stuttered as he ran, but he quickly shook himself, trying to regain some sense of composure. He cranked up the volume on his already blaring music and focused on the feeling of his feet pounding on the springy material of the track. He took deep breathes through his nose, letting them out slowly through his mouth, until the incessant pressure of his own thoughts felt like small pinpricks on the backdrop of an endless ocean. The song he was listening to suddenly seemed strangely appropriate. 

“ _I’m sinking to the bottom of my everything that freaks me out_

_The lighthouse beam has just run out_

_I’m cold, as cold as cold can be_

_I want to swim away but don’t know how_

_Sometimes it feels just like I’m falling[in the ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZES3nJQYJok)_

_Let the waves up and take me down_

_Let the hurricane set in motion_

_Let the rain of what I feel right now come down_ " 

If he couldn't handle his thoughts, then he would drown them out.

~~~

When Friday rolled around, Keith didn’t know how to feel about the match they were about to play. The team was all seated in the bus heading for Arus High, their opponent that week. Keith sat in a seat near the back, his headphones in and deep in thought.

 

He and Lance were still on fairly uncertain ground as far as their doubles was concerned. All week they had been at odds, but in the same token, they’d had moments where they could reach an impasse and begrudgingly work together, if only barely. Keith was rather headstrong, and Lance was just as stubborn. They were still having trouble communicating, and Keith wasn’t willing to back down from his claim on Monday. 

 

Keith remained lost in thought until they arrived at the school and the entire team filed off of their bus. The short walk to their courts was filled with a few stray thoughts of doubt for Keith as they all made their way to the other team. He wove his way through his teammates up to Allura, who threw a sideways glance at him as he matched her pace. They walked in relative silence before Allura spoke up.

 

“So how are you feeling about doubles today?” Keith didn’t turn to see what kind of expression Allura wore, but he was sure it held some concern, as was evident in the lilt of her accented voice. He shrugged lightly, not knowing how else to respond. 

 

“I honestly don’t know how I feel.” Keith sighed quietly. “I guess you could say I’m worried? I’m confident in my skills, but not in my ability to put up with Lance.” He laughed a little before continuing. “And I don’t think he has much patience for me either, if this week has been any evidence.” Allura chuckled along with him at that. 

 

“Tensions do seem to run high between you two.” Keith raised a brow at Allura, a half smirk sliding into place on his lips. 

 

“Oh man, what gave it away,” he deadpanned, giving Allura a flat stare. She laughed fully, a light sound that seemed to make the area around her brighter. “But you’re right,” he continued, expression dipping as he looked to the ground and spoke in a softer tone, “we aren’t the best at working together, so I don’t really know how this match is gonna go down. I guess I’ll just hope for the best.” Keith sighed and looked back up at Allura, who seemed pensive as she gazed ahead. She turned back to Keith after a moment and smiled softly. 

 

“Well I trust that you’ll be able to make the best of whatever may happen on the court today, and I’m sure Lance will do the same.” Her words were genuine and made a small smile appear on Keith’s face, thought they did little to ease the small pit of anxiety that had been forming within him. 

 

“Thanks, Allura.” Keith gave her a light pat on the shoulder and she nodded with a smile before heading off to place her things near Shay’s. Keith wandered over to where he could see Lance placing down his bags, taking a deep breath in to strengthen his resolve. 

 

He slid his large tennis bag off his shoulders and onto the metal bleachers opposite of Lance’s things, looking up and simply nodding to the other boy. Lance sent Keith finger guns, which he rolled his eyes at, before striding over to the group that was gathering around the two team’s coaches. 

 

They were quickly assigned courts to play on, and Keith soon found himself on the court with Lance and two of the Arus players. One was slightly shorter than the other, but the two looked as if they could mean business. But by now Keith had learned to never judge a player by their looks. 

 

After a short introduction and a racket spin to decide who would serve first, the two doubles teams started their warm up. When they reached their side of the court, Lance turned to Keith with a grin. 

 

“Ready to kick some ass, Kogane?” Keith rolled his eyes once more. 

 

“Sure, as long as you make sure to not be an idiot while we do it.” Lance squawked in protest and mock offense, but didn’t say much else as they began to rally with the Arus players. 

 

Once roughly five minutes had passed, the two boys from Arus took their positions opposite Keith and Lance, who did the same. Keith gave Lance a small nod before the match started, and he prayed that his patience would hold for this game. 

 

Within the first few points Keith was able to gauge the other team’s relative skill level. They had decent strokes 50% of the time, but they lacked the bit of inspiration it took to take risks. They stayed firmly within their comfort zone, and Keith hoped he could take advantage of that. Lance seemed to be handling himself just fine, so Keith wasn’t too worried about the outcome of the match.

 

At least, he wasn’t worried until Lance started dicking around. Apparently the boy had gathered a few of the same assumptions that Keith had made, and decided his full energy wasn’t needed to beat the other team. It started with him attempting a couple trick shots, half of which fell flat, the other half which left the two boys in shock. All it did to Keith was piss him off. 

 

Despite Lance’s tomfoolery, they managed to win the first few games, but not without losing a few unnecessary points. Each one only served to push Keith closer to the edge of his patience for the day. By the time it was Keith’s turn to serve, it was all he could do not to yell at his double’s partner. 

 

Deciding it would be best not to blow up on court, Keith put all his anger into the ball he was serving. He knew he shouldn’t be falling back to old habits, but he couldn’t spare any time to think when the lanky teen he was playing with wouldn’t take their match seriously. He tended to act on instinct anyway, and he didn’t think to do otherwise now. 

 

As each powerful serve fell short, and each subsequent second serve was rather tame for his status as a top player, Keith felt himself grow more frustrated at his lack of control. Before he even realized what was happening, he was serving the game point. 

 

Keith stepped up to the line, trying his best to focus on serving the ball. He announced the score and tossed the ball up high, before swinging his racket through again with as much strength as he could muster. It was no use, it seemed. Despite the amount of force behind the serve, it still caught the top of the net like all the others and bounced back onto their side of the court. In front of him, Lance turned to throw a questioning look Keith’s way. Keith ignored him and settled on his default second serve, a simple spin serve that hardly missed. 

 

The shorter player on the other team returned the serve easily enough, but sent it straight to Lance at the net. Keith fully expected Lance to send his next shot to the backcourt between the two players, but instead it went right to the other net player, who then did precisely what Keith had anticipated Lance doing. Caught off guard, Keith scrambled helplessly to try and recover the ball before it bounced twice. He reached it, but his wayward backhand sent the ball careening out of bounds. 

 

With a huff Keith straightened, turning to see Lance already walking to the bench in between the two adjacent courts. He stalked over to to his partner, determined to give him a piece of his mind. His patience had officially run out. As he approached, Lance widened his eyes almost comically.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith hissed when he reached the other boy, trying to keep his voice down as he berated Lance. “You hit that straight to the net man! That’s the last thing we need right now!” Lance scowled and threw his arms up in exasperation. 

 

“You think I don’t know that?!” Lance folded his arms and his face settled into a small pout. “I took a risk because he looked uncomfortable at the net, and I thought he wouldn’t know what to do with it!” Keith scoffed in disbelief. 

 

“Well he did know what to do with it, and he won them the point! And _you_ ,” Keith poked an offending finger in Lance’s arm as he spoke, “lost us the game!” Lance glared down at Keith before pushing the other boy’s hand away. 

 

“Oh shove off, like you did anything to help.” Lance was grumbling now, his tone petulant and mocking. “Those serves were shit.” Keith rolled his eyes, not wanting to be reminded of his own failures. 

 

“Whatever, just don’t do it again.” Keith then turned and stalked to the other side of the court, ending the conversation. Lance followed and muttered rather childishly, “I don’t have to listen to you. It’s not like we’ll lose anyway.” Keith ignored him fully, deciding he was done dealing with Lance entirely. 

 

Lance turned out to be right, though Keith was loath to admit it. They won the match despite a few more lost games on account of Lance’s antics and Keith’s temper. 

 

When they reported their score, Coran patted the boy’s backs, exclaiming brightly, “I’m glad to see you two working together for once!” Keith bit back the sarcastic laugh he was tempted to make, and opted for smiling rather weakly and nodding as he slid out of Coran’s grip. Lance hung back to talk to Coran, and Keith strode over to Shiro, who was busy watching one of the other matches that was on. Keith watched the match wordlessly at his coach’s side. Soon enough, Shiro spoke up quietly.

 

“So how did your match go?” Keith kept silent for a moment as he pondered Shiro’s question. Lance had certainly gotten on Keith’s last nerve during their match, but to say they performed poorly didn’t seem accurate. They had won after all, and quite handily at that. But Keith wasn’t exactly jumping at the thought of playing another match with Lance anytime soon. He finally spoke up after a moment. 

 

“It was…okay. We won, so that’s something to account for.” Keith paused, looking at Shiro, who nodded to encourage him to continue. “But Lance didn’t seem to take the match seriously half the time, and I probably let my temper get the best of me.” Shiro turned to fix Keith with a knowing look. The man had been working with him for five years now, so he’d seen his fair share of Keith’s temper. Keith sighed and looked back over the court. 

 

“I’m just not sure if we’re a good team or not. I know logically that our combined skill makes for a decent challenge, but that doesn’t necessarily make us a good team. It’s hard working with him, Shiro. And I’ve noticed that he seems distracted lately. He mentioned something about asking Nyma out and her refusing, but I don’t think something like that would affect his tennis, would it?” Keith moved his gaze back to Shiro, searching for answers he knew his coach likely wouldn’t have. Shiro sighed and faced Keith, giving him a small smile that seemed rather paternal in nature as he began to speak.

 

“Look, I can’t speak for what Lance is going through. It could be any number of things, but I have faith that he can work through it in time, with the help of his friends and teammates, should he need it.” Shiro moved to put his right hand on Keith’s shoulder. The prosthetic felt familiar and comforting. “I also have faith that you two can work through your differences. Coran and I have a feeling that you two could be more than just an ‘okay’ team.” Keith sighed but nodded in understanding, even allowing a small smile to grace his features. 

 

“Thanks, Shiro. I’ll do my best.” Shiro nodded and beamed down at Keith, his face glowing with what could be pride. 

 

“I know you will.” He squeezed Keith’s shoulder then let go to turn and watch the match on the court in front of them again. 

 

As Keith walked away, he thought of Shiro’s words. Could he and Lance make a good team? A great team? Keith wondered if he was willing to find out. After all, the boy did seem to test his patience in every imaginable way. But something about the sincerity of Shiro’s words, something about the genuine faith he had in Keith and Lance made Keith think that maybe, just maybe, he could try.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't click the link, the song Lance was listening to is Into the Ocean by Blue October :)


	4. Wasting Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah man so I have to apologize for being a couple days late. Until quite recently writer's block has been seriously kicking my ass, for like the last month and a half I've been struggling to be productive creatively. However, with the new season of Voltron coming up I've been feeling energized and motivated, so with that I give you all this new chapter, the longest one so far :)

Lance showed up to his mid city tournament on Saturday an hour early. There was a small knot of worry in the pit of his stomach, but it was no different than any of the other tournaments he’d been to. Depositing his large tennis bag on a bench, Lance started stretching his arms and legs, hoping to loosen up. He had a fair amount of time before the officials would get things started so he figured he should make good use of that time.

 

He settled for practicing serves while he waited for things to start. He was at it for a while before Hunk showed up. His friend hopped on a court to help him warm up, feeding him various shots and practicing general gameplay. The tension Lance had felt when he arrived slowly eased out of him as he hit with Hunk, and soon he found himself joking and laughing with his teammate.

 

Eventually the official running the tournament called everyone off the courts to go over basic rules and regulations. Lance tuned him out; he’d been to enough of these tournaments to know how things went. Once the official was finished reviewing the standard rules of the tournament, he started assigning players to courts to warm up. There were only ten courts at the site, and since Lance was near the bottom of the 32-draw bracket he would have to wait a bit before he could face his first opponent. He plopped down onto the metal bench that housed his bag and sighed as Hunk settled down next to him.

 

“So how you feeling about today buddy?” Hunk turned to face Lance, who was slowly sliding down to slouch on the bench. He shrugged noncommittally before sitting up a little straighter.

 

“I feel like I’ve got pretty good chances today, but Sendak is making me a little nervous.” Lance trained his gaze on a boy that was standing a few courts away, clad in a dark purple school t-shirt that could plainly read “Galra High Tennis.” He looked to be at least six feet tall, if not taller, with broad shoulders and large arms that looked quite intimidating, even from twenty feet away. Hunk and Lance watched him warm up silently, assessing what they could from the way he hit the ball. Hunk hummed quietly and turned back to Lance.

 

“He looks like he’s a power player my friend. Considering your track record with Keith I understand why you’d be nervous.” At that Lance fixed Hunk with a flat stare. Hunk smiled sheepishly before continuing. “However! I think that if you just focus on what you’re doing and don’t get so distracted by your own thoughts then you should handle him fine.” Hunk placed a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder and he felt what was left of his tension ebb away at the gentle touch of his friend.

 

“You’re right. I just gotta focus today.” Lance sighed slightly and looked down at his feet, leaning his elbows on his knees. Hunk chuckled quietly next to him and he threw a confused look his way, not sure what his friend was so amused by.

 

“Well from what I’ve heard about your doubles recently, you’ve had a bit of trouble focusing haven’t you?” Hunk’s expression was knowing as he dug an elbow into the other athlete’s side playfully. Lance gasped in mock offense throwing a hand against his chest.

 

“Escuuuuse you! I happen to be the single most focused tennis player on the planet, thank you very much.” An amused smirk graced Hunk’s lips as he turned a deadpan stare on Lance, letting him know that in no way did he believe his friend. Lance squirmed slightly under his gaze and threw up his hands with a huff. “In my defense, we had that match in the bag. You know I wouldn’t mess around in a match that really mattered.” If anything Hunk’s grin grew more knowing at that that, but he didn’t contradict Lance as he continued speaking. “I don’t know man, it’s just kind of weird working with Keith. The whole rivalry thing, you know?” Lance shrugged as he trailed off, not mentioning that this was only partly true. It _was_ strange working with Keith after building up this rivalry with him in his head, but Lance didn’t quite feel like sharing with Hunk the whole reason why he’d been so out of sorts lately. Hunk didn’t question him further though, instead laying a reassuring hand on his teammate’s shoulder.

 

“I get it man,” Hunk said, patting Lance’s shoulder lightly. Lance relaxed a bit, glad his friend understood- that is until he started speaking again. “You’re not sure how to handle your huge gay crush on Keith now that you’re his doubles partner.” Hunk’s conspiratorial grin rivaled that of Pidge, a.k.a. the master of disaster. Lance immediately blanched and started making aborted choking noises that slightly alarmed Hunk for a moment. He flailed around for a few more seconds before he found his voice, though it was suddenly several pitches higher.

 

“My _what_?! Hunk you know I only hold the greatest malice and contempt for my one and only rival, Keith Kogane!” He made a show of crossing his arms petulantly, giving out a great huff of indignation as he turned away from Hunk. “I do not have a crush on him,” Lance muttered out grumpily, his mouth downturned in a small pout. Hunk continued grinning as he leaned over to his friend, tapping his should lightly.

 

“See, you say that, but _one and only rival_ ,” Hunk lifted his hands in air quotes to punctuate the phrase, “sounds a lot more like something someone smitten would say my dude.” Lance squawked indignantly at that, turning to face Hunk again and fix him with a look of utter betrayal.

 

“Hunk, I can’t believe you would _slander me_ like this. Does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Hunk giggled at Lance’s dramatics but placed a hand on his shoulder again in a show of peace.

 

“Don’t worry man, I’m just teasing,” He stated with a small smile. Lance heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief before nudging Hunk playfully with his shoulder.

 

“Thanks dude. For helping me chill. I was kinda tense at first.” Hunk nodded knowingly, slinging an arm around his friend.

 

“Of course man, that’s what friends are for. I couldn’t let you go out there and make a fool of yourself first round could I?” Lance chuckled and leaned into his larger friend’s embrace.

 

“Now, now, Hunk, you know quite well I could still end up making a fool of myself.” Lance sighed quietly but smiled lightly. “But at least I’d give you a good laugh,” he intoned, quieter now as he enjoyed the warmth of his best friend next to him while watching the tennis matches in front of them. Time didn’t seem to last long like that, and soon enough he was called for his first match.

~~~

 

While his matches weren’t exactly the easiest, they breezed by smoothly enough that Lance found himself lined up to play in the finals sooner than he felt possible. Hunk had been a grounding force on the sidelines of each match, cheering him on with endless energy and enthusiasm as he overcame each new opponent, but he’d had to leave when his moms needed him back home to watch his sister. It was with a nervous anticipation that Lance waited out the ten minute break he requested after his semi-finals match before they would put him back on the court with his opponent.

 

He’d found out with not much surprise that he’d be playing Sendak for first place, but that didn’t keep the thick knot of anxiety from twisting in his gut. Lance knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he lost, second place was nothing to scoff at. But he always felt this way before a big match, and he was feeling it especially because he was about to face Galra High’s top player. A sharp stab of insecurity shot its way through him, and without his best friend there he found it hard to shove the feeling down on his own. Lance’s leg bounced rapidly, one of the only outward signs of his nervousness, as he waited for the officials to call him.

 

When they finally did, Lance sucked in a deep breath and stood up quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet to psych himself up. He stepped onto the court they were assigned, where Sendak was already waiting next to an older gentleman in a bright red uniform. The official briefed them quickly about all rules and regulations, and Lance did his best to focus on the man’s words rather than his own building tension.

 

Once the coin had been flipped and the two players had shaken hands (Lance decided to ignore the urge to suggest moisturizer to Sendak when he felt that his were rough and calloused), Lance shuffled over to his bag to pull out his racket and a new water bottle. He paused as he set the bottle down on the bench he stood next to and let a slow sigh drift through him. He rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to remove all the tension in his muscles. “Just remember what Hunk told you,” he muttered, staring resolutely at the fence in front of him. “He’s a power player, nothing you haven’t dealt with before.” With a final sigh Lance grabbed his racket and headed to his end of the court.

 

Their warm up went by easily enough, it seemed that after a day of tennis, neither player felt like overexerting before the match could even start. Sendak was serving first, so Lance was readying himself for a big serve to come his way.

 

Stepping up to the baseline across the court, Sendak bounced his ball a few times before glancing up at Lance, who was bobbing back and forth with his knees bent and racket raised. The look that Sendak sent Lance’s way was nothing short of chilling, his mouth curled up in a sadistic smile and eyes gleaming almost cruelly. A shiver ran down Lance’s spine and he shook himself as he saw Sendak tossing the ball up to serve.

 

The serve was in fact just as big as Lance predicted, so he was ready with a big return of his own, sliding to the middle of the court so he was in prime position to cover any open area. Sendak sent a powerful shot back Lance’s way, smirking in challenge as he did. Never one to back down, Lance continued to add power to each shot as they rallied back and forth, feeding off one another’s energy. But he soon miscalculated and sent a shot too far into the back court, just shy of the white line. A small curse left his lips, but he took it in stride as he moved to play the next point.

 

However, as the game continued, Lance found that he rose to the bait on every occasion that Sendak seemed to challenged him to a metaphorical dick-measuring contest. One point turned into one game, which turned into an entire set. Granted Lance hadn’t let himself be swept, he’d won a few games, but it didn’t mean much when he was down a set and getting in his own head more and more as the minutes went by.

 

He settled on the courtside bench after the first set was finished, frustrated to no end and trying to quell the waves of insecurity that were threatening to overcome him. Taking a long draught out of his water bottle, Lance attempted to calm his breathing as he wiped sweat from his forehead with a small towel that he pulled from his bag. He glanced over at Sendak, who was lounging on the other bench, the picture of ease. It irked Lance to no end, but he should have been used to any Galra player’s haughty attitude. Sendak had been practically taunting Lance the entire match thus far, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t getting to him just a bit.

 

Once their 90 second break was over, Lance stood and stretched, trying to relax and gather his wits about him. He tried striding purposefully over to his side of the court, but as Sendak passed him, he gripped Lance’s arm and stopped the other athlete in his tracks. Lance turned a slightly irritated and questioning gaze to the other boy, who was smiling eerily, and leaning far too close for Lance’s taste.

 

“You know,” Sendak breathed out, voice dripping like venom, “I’m not sure why you’re wasting your time and energy like this.” Lance tensed up as Sendak continued. “This match is mine,” he hissed out, low and antagonistic. He squeezed Lance’s arm rather roughly before shouldering past him to the other side of the court.

 

Lance stood there, frozen in place by his opponent’s words. They echoed through him like knives, slicing through any remaining composure and resolve that Lance had. All at once he felt the pressure of every thought he had tried to repress over the last week beating collectively against him. Everything was a backdrop to the pounding in his head. The incessant beat telling him _don’t waste your time, don’t waste your energy_.

 

So he didn’t.

 

Lance felt numb as he played mindlessly, no longer focusing on any kind of strategy, just returning the ball involuntarily. It was all a blur. He didn’t even react when he realized the match was over, that he’d lost. He shook Sendak’s hand limply, and accepted the second place medal with a quiet nod.

 

When he got home he couldn’t even muster the will to call Hunk and let him know how he did. He just lay in his bed lifelessly, staring at his ceiling. He wouldn’t bother his friend with the news of his loss.

 

He didn’t want to waste anyone’s time after all.

 

~~~

 

Keith noticed almost immediately that something was off with Lance.

 

Practice had started with the usual casual warmups, but soon they were all paired off with their partners to work on doubles, as per Shiro’s Monday schedule. They had all gathered as Shiro explained the drill they’d be working on, a quick exercise to practice net game while also improving partner coordination. Keith had been listening for the most part, but when he could spare his attention, he was silently observing his partner.

 

Lance stood next to Pidge and Hunk, surprisingly quiet and still. His shoulders were slumped slightly, less in a gesture of relaxation and more…resigned. He seemed to be halfheartedly listening to what Shiro was saying, but so did half the team. Keith remembered vaguely that Lance had mentioned a tournament that he had coming up, and he wondered if that had anything to do with his zombie-like posture. Leaning over to Allura, Keith nudged her arm lightly and whispered to her.

 

“Did Lance have a tournament last weekend?” Without taking her eyes off the drill demonstration, Allura leaned slightly towards Keith to whisper back.

 

“Yes he did. I heard from Coran that he won second place.” Allura turned fully toward him, her expression open and curious. “Why do you ask?”

 

Keith shrugged noncommittally, turning away from Allura and keeping his expression carefully neutral. “It just seems like he’s quieter than usual. I wondered if he’d lost or something.” Keith let out a small sigh. “I just hope he’s no more difficult to work with than usual.” Allura chuckled at that and bumped Keith’s shoulder with hers playfully.

 

“Maybe you’re just worried about him,” Allura sing-songed quietly. Keith huffed and gave her a playful shove, stepping away quickly to avoid any retribution. The captain chuckled lightly but didn’t pursue Keith, and they stood together in companionable silence as Shiro finished his instructions.

 

When their coach was done explaining, the team dispersed slowly to claim open courts. Keith wandered over to where Lance and his friends were standing, but he hovered just a few feet away and out of earshot, unsure if he should intrude. It seemed like Hunk and Pidge were trying to convince Lance of something, but he didn’t appear very swayed. After a moment Pidge set a comforting hand on Lance’s arm before walking off the court to go work with her partner. Hunk seemed to ask Lance a question, and the boy simply shrugged in answer and waved a dismissive hand at Hunk, who nodded and walked away quietly to join Matt.

 

Sensing the end of whatever conversation had just happened, Keith carefully approached Lance, clearing his throat to get the boy’s attention. He looked up with a start, and grimaced rather obviously before fixing his expression to something vaguely neutral that made him look constipated. Keith scowled at Lance’s obviously displeased reaction, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to start anything so early on in practice.

 

Without a word, the two teens walked to separate ends of the court, preparing themselves for the drill Shiro had assigned. They were to stand at mid court first, volleying to each other across the net while slowly making their way down to the other side of the court, all without forcing errors or outpacing their partner.

 

It proved to be difficult for both boys.

 

First Keith was side shuffling too quickly down the court, almost leaving Lance behind completely as he scrambled to catch up and return the ball, which proved unsuccessful. Lance bit out a small “slow down speed demon,” to which Keith bit back, “speed up slow-poke.” They glared at each other for a moment before returning to the side of the court they started on.

 

Next Lance was repeatedly missing shots that should have been easy for him, at least in Keith’s mind. After the fifth error in similar fashion, Keith stopped and leveled a scathing gaze on Lance, who returned a painfully unamused stare.

 

“Are you done pouting yet?” Keith’s tone may have come out slightly sharper than he wanted it to, but he found that he didn’t quite have the patience to care. Lance was getting on all of his nerves today, and he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it for much longer. The other athlete scoffed loudly and with supreme distaste, not even bothering to respond directly to Keith, simply muttering out “I’ll show him pouting.”

 

Over the next few tries, Lance’s strokes and volleys became increasingly exaggerated, far more ridiculous than effective, and it was trying Keith’s waning patience so much that he felt like he was going to snap soon.

 

The next point proved to be the breaking one. When Keith fed the ball over the net, Lance didn’t even bother trying to swing at it. He let it bounce past him, fixing the ball with a lackluster gaze as it plunked beside him and off to the back of the court. Finally, Keith had had enough.

 

“What’s your fucking problem man?” The question burst out hot and scathing from Keith’s mouth, his brow furrowed deep on his face and mouth twisted in a frown. Lance startled and turned to his partner, confusion gracing his features before they quickly hardened to a surprisingly sharp glare.

 

“I don’t know,” Lance paused, as if to seriously ponder the question, putting a hand under his chin and looking vaguely puzzled before returning his expression to that dangerous glare, “maybe my problem is my shit partner that I don’t work well with.” Keith scoffed, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

 

“At least I’m trying!” Lance rolled his eyes, which drove Keith further into his rage. “We could be a great team if you would get over yourself and just communicate! I can’t believe I have to keep saying this!” Keith pinched the bridge of his nose angrily then dropped his hand to look back up at Lance, who was visibly bristling and approaching the net quickly.

 

“Oh, like you’re much better! Half the time I have no idea what’s going through your head _buddy_.” The word dripped off Lance’s lips more like a sneer than a nickname. “If _you’d_ get over _yourself_ and your superiority complex, maybe we’d get somewhere!” Keith’s mouth dropped open in shock, but he quickly shook himself and stalked towards the tan boy standing at the net.

 

“Superiority? Wha- are you kidding me?” Keith continued his journey up to the net to stand directly in front of Lance. “Have you even heard yourself talk? 90% of the things that come out of your mouth involve some sort of self-praising bullshit! Maybe if you backed it up on the court it wouldn’t be such a problem!” Lance jerked back a bit, obviously affected by the claim, but he drew forward again with a fierce expression painting his face.

 

“You’re not any better than me, Kogane, you fuck shit up just as often as I do! At least I have the balls to admit that I get shit wrong sometimes!” An indignant sound made its way out of Keith’s throat, and it took a massive amount of self control not to throw himself at Lance.

 

“I know damn well that I fuck up sometimes, I’m not an idiot!” Keith’s hands were balled up at his sides, shaking with how hard he was holding himself back. Lance was leaning forward onto the net and seemed to be exerting a similar amount of force to keep himself from vaulting the net. “Maybe if you grew up and worked with me you’d stop wasting my time!”

 

There was a visible change in Lance’s demeanor. His face drained of color and fell slack as he released the pressure he’d been applying to the net. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open as he stumbled back a small step. At first Keith thought he was simply shocked, until he observed his partner closer. There was unmistakable pain in Lance’s eyes, pain that spoke volumes, though about what Keith wasn’t sure. As he watched the other boy, he saw Lance’s shoulders slump, all the energy and anger draining out of him at once, leaving behind a quiet resignation similar to what Keith had observed at the beginning of practice.

 

A thick and tense silence hung over the two boys, made no better by the obvious silence ringing through all the other courts, which had undoubtedly listened in on their argument. Lance swallowed thickly and made quick and heavy eye contact with Keith before whispering, “Fine. I’ll stop wasting your time.” With no more words, he made a swift exit off the court towards the locker rooms, leaving his racket abandoned on the ground, and his partner gaping after him with a growing sense of uneasiness and guilt.

 

Once Lance had disappeared from view, though a few of his teammates were still blatantly staring at Keith, the other courts began to pick back up where they had left off. With a muted sense of shame, Keith slowly turned to where Shiro and Coran normally sat during practices. As if expecting him, Shiro had already approached the fence that surrounded his court. He waved a beckoning hand at Keith, his expression hard and stern. With a small amount of trepidation Keith shuffled over to the fence. With a brow now quirked up, Shiro began to question Keith.

 

“You mind telling me what that was about? And why one of my top players just left practice?” Keith knew Shiro had every idea what that had been about, it was what almost all of his arguments with Lance were about. But he supposed his coach just wanted him to acknowledge the situation, since Keith did have a penchant for ignoring problems that were staring him in the face. With a sigh Keith turned himself to look towards the gate Lance had left from.

 

“Well it started out no different than any other argument we’ve had. He was fooling around-” Shiro cleared his throat rather obnoxiously, and when Keith turned to look at him, he was fixing him with a very unimpressed stare. Keith coughed awkwardly and continued. “We had a… _disagreement_ , and it escalated to the point that Lance left. I may have been harsher than was necessary because I let my temper get the best of me.” Shiro nodded knowingly, but Keith didn’t have the heart to get offended. He knew his temper was unchecked more often than it should be.

 

“Well whatever your disagreement was about, I hope you can put it behind you. I fully expect you to go and talk things out with Lance.” Keith spluttered in shock and whirled around to face Shiro fully.

 

“You want me to do _what_?” Shiro’s gaze was flat and entirely serious, silently communicating that _you heard what I said_. “You need to talk to him, he won’t listen to me Shiro! That’s what started this whole thing in the first place.” However, Shiro’s expression left no room for argument. “You two will never work together at this rate if you don’t learn to talk out your problems. If I step in every time something goes wrong, nothing will change.” Keith sighed and folded his arms petulantly, resigning himself to either another fight or some kind of extremely awkward apology in the near future. He made sure to pout a bit too in the hopes that Shiro might take pity on him, but that similarly had no effect.

 

“Fine, I’ll try and talk to him. But if he kicks me out of the locker room or something I won’t hesitate to tell you I told you so.” His coach practically rolled his eyes at this, and Keith scowled at him to properly communicate his extreme displeasure with this situation. It didn’t seem to work, as Shiro eventually nodded somberly and left Keith to his own devices.

 

With a deep breath, Keith unfolded his arms and began his walk of shame. Already a heavy weight had started to settle in his gut as he made his way to the building next to the courts. He could only hope that things would go well.

 

~~~

 

When he reached his destination, Keith pushed open the locker room door slightly, peering in hesitantly but not seeing much. He wanted nothing more than to rid his body of the nervous tension that gripped him. It settled in his gut like a dead weight, making him pause with the door barely cracked open. He had no earthly idea what kind of state Lance would be in, nor did he know what he would say to the boy. Keith knew he hadn’t been the kindest back at the courts; he let his anger and irritation get the best of him, and Lance had suffered for it. But now that the crimson rage had died down, Keith was at least willing to admit that he’d crossed some kind of line for Lance, and he hoped his partner would be open to at least listen to him. 

 

A sudden, shuddering sigh pulled Keith out of his doorway thoughts. Steeling himself quietly, Keith gently swung the door open completely, and was met with a surprising sight. The locker room was fairly small, so it wasn’t hard to spot a rather dejected-looking Lance perched on a bench that stretched the center of the room. Keith stared for a moment at the slumped over figure, who had his head in his hands in a display of utter hopelessness. Another heavy sigh escaped the boy as he gazed at the floor, a forlorn look plastered on his face. Keith felt a pang of guilt and sympathy, and he quickly gathered all his resolve. With a deep breath, he opened his mouth and called out quietly. 

 

“Lance?”

 

The other athlete whipped his head up violently, setting his gaze on the mullet-bearing boy in the doorway. A fluttering of shock and embarrassment quickly passed over his face, before he settled on a disgruntled glare, making it known that he was not happy Keith was there. Keith expected as much, but he could see that any intensity in the stare was lost in translation, Lance only managing to look mildly put out. And he couldn’t help but notice the tiredness behind the other boy’s glare, the hidden fatigue that peeked out of the corners of his face, his own expression betrayed by the dull look and the raw pink that rimmed his eyes. There was no fire there, as Keith had seen earlier. No, Lance looked spent, like he hardly had the energy to move, let alone feel emotions anymore.  

 

“What do you want, Keith?"

 

Lance spoke bluntly, still fixing Keith with his half-assed glare. But there didn’t seem to be much effort behind his words, despite their vaguely hostile tone. Smothering the small piece of irritation that threatened to bubble inside of him, Keith cleared his throat and tried to push as much sympathy, and -dare he say it- kindness into his next words. 

 

“We need to talk, Lance.” Taking a tentative step forward, Keith let the door shut behind him, hoping the closed door might set the boy in front of him at ease, knowing the conversation would be private. But Lance scoffed quietly, turning his gaze back to the slick gray floor before muttering a response to Keith. 

 

“We just did, idiot. And rather loudly, I might add.” The bitterness in Lance’s voice was not lost on Keith, but he swallowed any indignation rising within him before he started again. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he silently squashed his pride. _If we want to get anywhere with this doubles team, I have to learn to grow up some time._ With that thought in mind, Keith stepped forward again, approaching Lance, who still had his eyes set on the floor. 

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Lance gave Keith a sideways glance, his brow furrowed as Keith continued speaking. “Back at the courts we both said some pretty harsh things.” Lance’s eyebrow quirked up and a grimace settled onto his lips, but Keith pressed on. “I came here to apologize. What I said was…” Keith paused to gather his thoughts before he continued speaking, “…was unwarranted, and even if you were pissing me off, you didn’t deserve it. You aren’t wasting my time, and I’m sorry.” 

 

Suddenly it was Keith’s turn to be fascinated with the floor. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, his face contorted with what he hoped was an appropriate amount of shame. Daring to look up again, Keith found that Lance had turned to face him fully, eyes wide and eyebrows high, his mouth opened in a slight ‘o’ of blatant surprise. He proceeded to open and close his mouth soundlessly, floundering about for a moment as he seemingly tried to compose himself and get over his initial shock. Keith stood there observing the mess of a boy as he helplessly attempted to form coherent words. 

 

Finally finding himself, Lance’s mouth closed and twisted to a guilt-ridden frown, once again turning away from Keith to focus on the floor. His frame deflated, more so than it already had, and he placed his face in his hands as he let out a quiet sigh. He was so quiet that Keith almost didn’t hear him.

 

“I-I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be a dick. At least, no more than usual.” Lance went silent and glanced over at Keith. A ghost of a smirk was on his face, but it lacked the oozing confidence that his usual expression had. Right now, it looked more sad than anything else.

 

Another sigh escaped Lance and he shifted on the bench, his forearms resting on his legs as he slouched over, head hanging. It was a stark contrast to the loud, boisterous attitude that Lance usually carried himself, and Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so sad, not even when the boy had sat across from him in a small fast food restaurant. But he realized sad wasn’t the right word. Vulnerable was what Lance looked in that moment, and another twinge of sympathy rose up inside Keith’s chest.

 

Silently, Keith walked over to join Lance on the bench. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was by no means comfortable either. It was simply…strange. Normally Lance took these opportunities to fill the void with his obnoxious jokes, but it seemed the boy was in no shape to try and conjure up any humor.

 

He did, however, speak up.

 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like this.” Keith turned sideways to glance at Lance, but his attention was still captured by the sleek gray floor. He opted to stay silent, hoping Lance would see this as an invitation to carry on.

 

“I mean, I’ll admit this is _by far_ the worst of my relapses. But it’s not like I haven’t been this way before.” He let out a small sigh before continuing. “It really started when I was a kid. Back at Garrison Elementary, I was a bit of a trouble-maker.” Lance laughed a little at that, but it came out sounding hollow. “And by a bit, I mean I caused all sorts of problems. Punching kids, pulling hair, stealing pencils, launching spitballs. You name it, and I was probably doing it at some point. My mom had just given birth to my two twin sisters, and, understandably, a lot of my parents’ time was devoted to them. So I messed around at school, cause I wanted attention. Well eventually this all collected into a nice, steaming mountain of shit for me. Principle Iverson was a pretty strict administrator, and he didn't really mince his words. When I got called to his office, he laid it out to me in the simplest terms he knew.” Lance sniffed a little and went on. “He said, ‘McClain, you’ll never amount to anything. You don’t know how to do anything but cause trouble, and that makes you a complete waste. A waste of time, a waste of energy, and a waste of space.’”

 

Suddenly Lance’s reaction to him earlier made a lot more sense. Keith couldn’t help but cringe at the words that seemed to echo his own. If Lance noticed, he didn’t pause to address it.

 

“Man, hearing that kind of shit when I was only 11? It fucked me up something fierce. I had out of school suspension after that, and I spent most of it moping around. I never really got over what he said, but I did get to thinking. Maybe if I was good at something. Maybe if I excelled at just one thing, I could prove to Iverson, prove to my parents, prove to _me_ , that I wasn’t a waste. It figures that I picked tennis, of all things.” Another shuddering sigh left the boy’s body. “I guess that’s why I’ve been moping so much lately. All of it kinda got to me, you know? Nyma told me I shouldn’t have wasted my time on her. I felt like I was wasting my time trying to beat Sendak.” Lance paused then, as if he was unsure if he should go on. When he did speak up, it was so quiet Keith almost didn’t hear him. “I felt like I was wasting my time trying to be partners with someone was so obviously better than me at _everything_ , and had been for four years. You even kept trying to make our doubles team work, and all I was doing was fucking it up. It was overwhelming, I guess…” Lance trailed off slowly, not looking up from the ground. His voice came back as barely a whisper. “I just want to be worth people’s time.” He didn’t speak after that.

 

They lapsed into a tense silence, and Keith thought about what he knew of Lance. He hadn’t really taken the time before to analyze just what was causing his partner’s drastic dip in temperament. Lance had been in a rut, and it seemingly started with the whole fiasco of Nyma and Homecoming. And from what Keith gathered, losing to Sendak had only worsened his mood exponentially.

 

But what stood out most to Keith was when he realized that not only had _he_ been a constant source of anxiety for Lance, but he had also been the final straw for him. He knew he wasn’t necessarily responsible for all of it, and that there were a lot of things out of his control, but it was still _Keith_. Whether he knew it or not, Keith had spoken those words that reflected everything Lance had ever been afraid of. Whether he was aware or not, every time he took one of Lance’s challenges, he had slowly pushed Lance into a deep, dark hole. He had done this. For four years he had done this. He was one of the reasons Lance had stormed off the courts in such a rush. He was one of the reasons Lance always thought he needed to prove himself. And in the end, he was the reason for the obvious tear tracks that stained Lance’s cheeks. He had been the extra weight that broke the camel’s back.

 

Keith needed to fix this before it suffocated him.

 

He had never known seeing Lance like this would hurt as much as it did. This was so much more different than at the restaurant when he had talked to Lance, driven by curiosity and boredom more than anything else. Now he was seeing an entirely new side of Lance that he never knew existed. Lance was opening up to him, baring a painful part of himself in the hopes that Keith would be able to understand him a little better. Lance was suddenly more than just that annoying teammate Keith always wrote off. He was a person, just like Keith.

 

“You know, I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

 

Keith didn’t know why he had blurted it out so suddenly. Maybe it was because he could hear the words _I’m sorry I’ll never be as good as you_ echoing around his head like a death sentence. Maybe it was because he wanted Lance to know that he wasn’t someone to put on a pedestal, that they were equals. Maybe it was because now he understood why Lance always sought to fill the silence; it could become so thick, so heavy, so _consuming_.

 

He continued talking, not waiting to see what Lance’s reaction was. But he could feel the other boy’s gaze on him as he stared at the floor.

 

“When I first started playing, I was just like any other player. But I worked hard, and I guess I had what you could call natural talent. I won’t lie, it got to my head a bit. Middle school athletics generally don’t hold much as far as competition is concerned, so it was a little more than easy for me to settle into a nice little bubble of success. So when that bubble popped, when I finally met someone who was my match, and more, I was naturally devastated. It was my first loss in what felt like ages, and I didn’t take it well. I was ornery for a while, and I refused to listen to my coach. I wouldn’t show up to practice a lot, but when I did I was a lot more likely to storm off every time I did something wrong than I was likely to stay. I’m not proud of it. But it happened, and the only reason I didn’t get kicked off the team was because someone saw potential in me.”

 

Keith finally decided to look up, and was met with the open gaze of Lance. His face was relaxed and his lips were parted slightly, his eyebrows raised a fraction as he stared attentively at Keith. He was _listening_. Actually, fully, listening to Keith.

 

He looked back down again, but knowing Lance was listening gave him enough courage to press on.

 

“That someone once told me that if I focused too much on the losses in life, I wouldn’t be able to look up long enough to see everything I’d accomplished right in front of me. And I think I could say the same to you.”

 

Looking up again, this time Keith moved his hand to Lance’s shoulder and made eye contact with the other athlete. Dark eyes met those ocean blue ones unflinchingly, and Keith held his gaze firmly.

 

“I don’t think you know how much you’ve actually accomplished, Lance.” Keith’s voice was only a breath louder than a whisper, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You’ve been playing varsity for four years-do you know how amazing that is? Not a lot of freshman make the cut right out of middle school.” Lance opened his mouth and glanced to the floor as he muttered a short, “You did too…” before Keith cut him off with squeeze to his shoulder. “This isn’t about me. This is about you.” He furthered his point by giving Lance another gentle squeeze. “You’ve placed plenty of times in tournaments, you’ve won countless awards, you’ve pulled our team through tough wins more times than I can count. I think you’ve been so caught up in trying to beat me that you never realized just how much _you_ have done.” Lance was speechless, staring at Keith as he pressed on. “I’m not perfect. I fuck up literally all the time. I never have been perfect, and I never will be. You won’t be either, but that doesn’t change the fact that we can both try our best to improve upon the place we’re at now. In the end it’s not about comparing yourself to others, its about comparing yourself now to where you used to be. You are the only person you should ever worry about beating.”

 

Keith’s eyes were still locked on to Lance’s, which had widened significantly the more Keith had talked. He tried right then to send all of his unspoken apologies in one look. He wanted Lance to know that he realized all the trouble he had caused Lance, inadvertently or not, and that he was sorry for it. He didn’t know if it would count for anything. He didn’t even know if Lance would understand what he was trying to communicate.

 

But he didn’t get a chance to think about it, because all at once he was suddenly enveloped in a pair of tan, lanky arms. He stiffened slightly at the touch at first, but when he felt Lance nervously begin to draw away, he slid his arms around his partner, letting out a small, “It’s okay.”

 

They both relaxed into the hug, and Keith couldn’t help but appreciate how nice it felt. He wasn’t an overly physical person, but that combined with the fact that he lived alone, and it was understandable that Keith was rather touch-starved.  

 

The two were quiet for an indiscernible amount of time, content to simply bask in the embrace they shared. Lance let out a small breath that ghosted over the nape of Keith’s neck before he whispered, “Thank you. I won’t pretend that things are going to magically get better from here, but I think it’s a starting point. We’ve got the ball rolling, and I’m willing to put in the effort to make things better.” Keith smiled even though Lance couldn’t see him, and he whispered back, “I am too.” He gave Lance a small squeeze, and they maintained their embrace for a moment longer before the two finally parted.

 

Another spell of silence fell over them, but this time Keith felt like he could breath again. They shared a final, quick glance before Lance stood and stretched his arms above his head. A light sigh escaped Lance before he dropped his hands and turned to Keith. Flicking his head to the door slightly and extending a hand to help Keith up, Lance graced him with a trademark grin.

 

“Come on. The team’s probably waiting for us.”

 

Keith couldn’t help but grin back as he took his partner’s hand, a new warmth filling his chest. They shared something now, something almost inexplicable. It was something akin to a bond, that went a little deeper than a simple doubles team. They walked out of the locker room together, with the hopes that they could make this partnership- and tentative friendship -work out for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering: I'll be posting bi-weekly (every other Monday) so expect updates then! I've written ahead a bit and I'm making sure I'll be prepared for each update so that y'all don't have to worry about updates anymore than I do :)
> 
> Also scream at me on [tumblr](grandaddycoran.tumblr.com)


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